


Last Ones Standing

by LadyLibby



Series: Last Ones Standing [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Love, Marriage, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Post-Time Skip, Pregnancy, Protective Daryl Dixon, Romance, Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10, Series Rewrite, Trauma, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: You’ve survived every horror that’s come your way-- the dead walking, the Governor, Terminus, not to mention the deaths of the closest thing to family you’d had in a long time. But you made it through, and you found the person you care most about in the world on the other side. But none of that, absolutely none of it, could have prepared you for Negan. Now, in the aftermath of the war-- with your world expanded and completely redefined, you and Daryl have to find your way. Somehow, you’re going to be the last ones standing.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Reader, Daryl Dixon/You, Ezekiel/Carol Peletier, Rick Grimes/Michonne
Series: Last Ones Standing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894432
Comments: 26
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally here! This is chapter one of twenty-four, taking us from the time jump in season nine and continue to the end of season ten with several flashback chapters from seasons six, seven, and eight interspersed throughout. It’s going to be a long ride, but I hope you’re as excited as I am!

A great poet once summed up life in three words: it goes on. 

You didn’t always believe him. Not when the world literally became death– turning to decay everywhere you looked. Not when you lost parents, friends, and sisters. Not when it all became a cycle of war with no end in sight. 

But you believed him when you heard your sister sing by the campfire on the first night of safety in months. When you reunited with your family in a train car despite all the odds. When you held a newborn baby girl and saw the future in her sweet little face. 

You believed him when you woke up on a day like today, with sunlight dancing across your face. 

You could hear sounds of life all around you– the gentle flow of water, morning birdsong, cicadas signalling the end of the summer season. You could feel it too, in the strong arms wrapped around your waist, the steady cycle of breath on your neck, the warm chest pressed against your back. 

Stretching slowly, you let consciousness flow into the rest of your body as you extended your legs and pointed your toes. There was a slight chill in the morning air, nipping at the pieces of bare skin left uncovered by the blanket. 

Shivering slightly, you shifted around so you were facing the other direction, cuddling closer to the man beside you. You pressed a sleepy kiss against the tattoo above his heart, your lips brushing the cursive letters on his skin. 

A rumble made its way through his chest as he began to wake up, his arms tightening around you reflexively. Eyes blinking open, he tilted his face upwards and kissed your forehead lazily. 

“Mornin’” Daryl said, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. 

The sound of it sent an entirely different shiver through your body, setting off a highlight reel of very pleasant memories from the night before. 

“Y’cold?” Daryl frowned, tucking the blanket closer around you and rubbing his hands across your back to create friction. 

“I’m perfect.” You stretched up to kiss him softly, smiling as you pulled away. “Thank you for trying to warm me up, although you don’t need a blanket to get me hot and bothered.” 

Daryl rolled his eyes, color rising to his cheeks as he scoffed. “Stop.” 

“But you’re so easy to tease.” 

“Imma throw ya in the water in a minute if yer not careful.” He warned, grasping your waist as if to prove his seriousness. 

“No,” You grabbed his shoulders, hiding your face against his chest. “I take it back, you’re not easy to tease and I actually don’t think you’re sexy at all. Not even when you talk to me in your morning voice.”

“That’s it–” Daryl sat up, hauling you with him towards the edge of the covered raft. 

“No!” You exclaimed, clinging to him with all your strength as you laughed. “I’m sorry, I’ll never tease you again I  _ promise _ .” 

Daryl paused as if contemplating your plea. 

“Fine.” He rumbled, letting you go. “Jus’ this once.” 

The front flap of the tent rustled as Dog burst inside, set off by your shouting. He barked, looking between the two of you excitedly. 

“If you were coming to save me,” You smiled, holding the blanket against your chest as you leaned forward to scratch behind his ears. “You’re a little late there, buddy. I could be drowning in the lake by now.” 

“Ya wouldn’t’ve drowned,” Daryl grumbled. 

He rummaged around beside the sleeping mat, finding your shirt and handing it to you. 

“Go on, get.” He clicked his tongue at Dog, sending the sweet animal back out into the camp.

You smiled to yourself as you and Daryl dressed in contented silence before leaving the tent. You stepped off the raft, taking a deep breath of morning air and stretching your arms above your head. 

“When d’ya need t’be back?” 

You lowered your arm, checking your watch. It was just a few minutes after seven. 

“Soon,” You admitted, “Rosita said she wanted to come in early to talk about something.”

“Can’t she jus’ talk t’Siddiq?” 

“Their whole thing is still...weird.” You said, “And it might not be a medical thing anyway. She didn’t say.” 

“Alright.” Daryl said, his tone resigned but not upset. You leaving was always part of the arrangement. If he really didn’t like it, he knew he was the one with the power to change things around. “Jus’ lemme give ya somethin’ ‘fore ya go.” 

You tilted your head, confused. Daryl ducked back into the tent and grabbed something before coming back and holding it out for you. It was actually two things, a purple yo-yo and two pieces of smooth green seaglass. 

“For th’kids. Dunno if they’ll want ‘em but...thought’t might be nice.” 

“RJ is really into rocks right now so he’ll love the seaglass. And Judith might not act like a kid most of the time but I think she’ll like the yo-yo.” You smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re a very thoughtful uncle.” 

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head, waving you off. “Jus’ found ‘em some things.” 

“Whatever you say.” You shrugged, completely unconvinced. 

Daryl walked with you past the doused campfire over to where you’d tethered your horse, Missy, for the night. You rubbed your hand over her snout in greeting, getting an affectionate snuffle in return. You tucked Daryl’s gifts into the saddlebag, turning back around to face him. 

No matter how many times you did it, no matter how many years had passed in this routine, you still hated saying goodbye. 

You felt like there was a string tied somewhere inside your chest, stretching to somewhere inside his. When you were together, it all felt right. But when you were apart, even in the moments before you had to leave, you could feel it starting to stretch. You could feel a tension building, a longing pull that wouldn’t go away until you were in his arms again. 

He never said anything, but you knew Daryl felt it too. 

You sensed it in the way he lingered, trying to extend your kiss goodbye. You felt it in the way his hands squeezed your waist as he helped you up onto Missy. You saw it in his eyes, subdued and mixed with longing as he looked up at you. 

You squeezed his hand three times. He squeezed your hand back, fingers smoothing over the simple gold band on your left hand. 

Dog trotted over to his side, sitting at Daryl’s feet and looking up at you. 

“Look after him for me,” You called, “Keep him out of trouble, okay?” 

Dog barked once and you decided to take it as a sign of agreement. You looked back at Daryl as you lifted the reins. 

“I love you.”

“Love ya too.”

Before you could give into temptation and stay forever, you spurred Missy with a click of your tongue and headed back into the forest. 

It wasn’t a long ride back to Alexandria, about half an hour– fifteen minutes at a gallop. Daryl’s camp was closest to Alexandria, but that was all because of you. He was close so you could find him easily. You knew Carol came from Kingdom to see him and he went to Hilltop every so often, but he never visited Alexandria. Not anymore. 

You didn’t blame him. There were times when that small, selfish part of you longed to just stay with him. To screw responsibilities and rules and just be the two of you. Because as much as you loved Alexandria and your family, it didn’t feel much like home anymore. 

No, the closest you felt to home was when you left and ventured out into the woods– when you got to be with him again. 

But you never gave into that longing. Too many people were relying on you. And you would not let them down. 

When you arrived back at Alexandria, you still had a little time before you needed to be in the infirmary to meet Rosita. You stabled Missy, handing her off to Nico and his practically magical way with animals, before heading home for a quick shower and change of clothes. 

You’d just made it through the front door when the sound of feet pounding down the hallway reached your ears. 

“Auntie Y/N’s back!” 

RJ came flying at you, but you were ready for him, catching his wiry five-year-old frame in your arms and spinning around. 

“Hey there alligator,” You greeted, setting him down again as Judith stepped into the hallway. 

“Hi Y/N,” She said. 

“Hey Bug,” You leaned down, flicking the bridge of her hat affectionately. “Looks like you two kept the house intact while I was gone, that’s good.” 

“Mommy was here too, you know.” 

“She’s the one I was worried about.” You winked, miming cutting the wall with a sword. 

“You’re silly,” RJ giggled. 

“But that’s why you like me, right?” You asked, crouching down to his level. 

“Yeah,” He admitted with a shrug, “And because you make pancakes.” 

“Good.” You laughed, straightening up again. “Well, silly Auntie needs to go get ready for work. But I have some treats for you before I go.” 

Apocalypse or not, the t-word always garnered a reaction. RJ and Judith each perked up, eyes sparkling with anticipation and excitement. 

“These are from your uncle Daryl,” You said, pulling the treasures from your pockets. “A yo-yo for you, Bug, and some very pretty seaglass for you, RJ.” 

“What’s seaglass?” RJ asked, peering at the green objects curiously. 

“It’s glass that used to be part of something else, like a bottle or a cup, but it’s been broken off and traveling the world in the ocean or the rivers or the land so long that it’s lost all the sharp edges.” 

“Cool.” 

“Very cool.” You agreed, smiling softly at the sight of Judith carefully examining the yo-yo. Trying to work out exactly how it functioned, she was making a sort of suspicious face which reminded you of Michonne– like mother like daughter.

“Okay critters, I have to get going but I’ll be back by dinner time. I’m thinking spaghetti tonight, what do we think?” 

“Yes!” 

“Excellent.” You smiled. 

Rosita was waiting on the steps of the infirmary when you arrived. She stood up as you approached, tucking her hands into her back pockets.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” You said, unlocking the front door. “Have you been waiting long?” 

“It’s fine,  _ ciquita _ , I’m just early.” 

“Siddiq took the late shift yesterday so I could leave. He won’t be in for a while yet so we have some time to talk.” You assured her. 

You held the door open, following her inside. At your gesture, she settled down on the edge of the exam table while you washed your hands. 

“So what’s up?” You asked, sitting down on a rolling stool across from her. 

“I think I might be pregnant.” 

“Oh.” You blinked.

Rosita had always been straight and to the point, you had to give her that. You quickly got over the surprise, getting back into professional mode. 

“Have you been experiencing typical pregnancy symptoms? Nausea, fatigue, tender or sore breasts, anything out of the ordinary?” 

“I guess I’m more tired than usual but I mean, we’re both used to that. I wouldn’t have come except my period is three weeks late. And I’ve been nauseous a lot lately.” 

“And it’s likely you could have gotten pregnant since your last period?” 

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together. 

“Okay,” You nodded, “I’m going to get you a test. Do you want to take it here with me or wait and do it at home?” 

“Here.” She said quickly. “Unless–is there still time before Siddiq shows up?” 

You checked your watch, “Yeah.” 

“Okay. Yeah,” Rosita took a breath. “Let’s do it now.” 

“Okay.” You stood and moved over to the cabinet, retrieving one of the scavenged cardboard boxes. “Do you know how to take one?” 

“Yeah.” Rosita nodded, taking it from you and moving towards the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right out here if you want to wait together.” 

Rosita returned a few minutes later, the little plastic stick wrapped in paper towels. You took it from her, setting it aside. 

“The results will be ready in a few minutes.” 

Rosita nodded, crossing her arms and looking around the room aimlessly. After a moment, she looked back at you. 

“How’s your mountain man?” 

You let out a small huff of laughter. “He’s good.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” Rosita shook her head, “I can barely handle a relationship when we’re both in the same place.” 

“Are things with Gabriel not…”

“No, he’s great. It’s just this–” She glanced at the test. “If I  _ am _ , then it’s going to get complicated.”

You’d been surprised when Rosita and Gabriel had started a relationship a few weeks earlier. Of all the people, you hadn’t expected the two of them. But she seemed happier than she’d been in a long time and you’d always liked Gabriel. And considering the circumstances of your own relationship, you weren’t really one to judge.

“Gabriel is a caring guy, I’m sure he’ll want to be a dad.” 

“He wouldn’t be. That’s the problem.” Rosita grimaced. “We hadn’t had sex until last week.” 

“Ah,” You caught on, “So if you’re pregnant, Siddiq would be the father.” 

Rosita sighed. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” You sighed, reaching out and putting your hand on her shoulder. “Well just know that no matter what happens with Siddiq or Gabriel or anybody else, I’m here for you.” 

Rosita managed a smile, putting her hand over yours. “Thanks  _ chiquita _ .” 

“Of course.” You squeezed her shoulder before letting your hand drop to your side. “Are you ready to find out?” 

Rosita took a breath, steeling herself. “Yeah, okay.”

You picked up the bundle of paper, holding it back out for her. She unwrapped it, hands remarkable steady. You looked down together, seeing the two pink lines. 

“Shit.” 

~

You plunged your hands into the bin of soapy water, soothed by the warmth as you scrubbed the dinner dishes clean. About half had been neatly stacked up in the dish rack when Michonne joined you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

“I’m leaving with the scavenging group tomorrow morning. I’ll split off after a few miles and do a perimeter check. Eugene’s worried about a herd a couple of towns over.” She said. “It’ll take a day, maybe two.” 

Michonne never seemed to rest anymore. It was all action, all business, and all strategy. Gone were the days of laughter over the pleasure of brushing your teeth, the optimistic perspective which allowed for hope and opportunities to change. No, everything was about protection now– keep what you have and stop anyone else from coming close. 

You understood why, of course, you had the same memory seared onto your skin that she did. But you’d moved forward, you’d been able to find the hope again. Michonne was still stuck. 

“Slumber party with Auntie it is.” You said, “I’ve got things covered here.”

“You always do.” Michonne patted your shoulder, stoic veneer fading slightly. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” You pressed your cheek against the back of her palm, hands too soapy to pat her hand. 

Michonne cleared her throat, arms crossed. “How is he?” 

You blinked, biting back your surprise. She never asked about Daryl. She knew where you went every week, but it was an unspoken acknowledgement. You knew your leaving was a security risk, but she knew you needed to go. 

And, though neither of you would ever say it, you knew a part of her was jealous. When you went out into the woods to find your love, he would be there. Michonne’s love was gone. 

“He’s good.” You said, “He has a dog now. They found each other about a year ago.” 

“Oh,” Michonne nodded stiffly. “What’s its name?”

“Dog.” 

She cracked a smile at that, shaking her head in amusement. “Of course it is.” 

“Right?” You chuckled too. 

“Judith was playing with a yo-yo and I didn’t know where it came from and she told me it was from Uncle Daryl so…” Michonne explained. “Has he found–has he–” 

You gazed at her, your chest aching. You shook your head. 

“Yeah,” Michonne nodded, eyes shining. “Well, thank you for agreeing to keep an eye on things.” 

“Anytime.” You said softly, watching the ghost of your friend leave the room. 

~

“Alright munchkins, where did we last leave off?” You asked, flipping through a worn copy of  _ Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters _ . “I think we were on Chapter Eleven.” 

“Can you tell us a different story tonight?” RJ interrupted, peeking at you from under the covers. 

When Michonne was gone, RJ and Judith both slept in your room. The three of you gathered all the pillows and blankets from their bedrooms and constructed a massive fort around your bed. It wasn’t quite movie nights and ice cream like the ones you’d loved as a kid, but it was a small way to keep joy and wonder in their childhoods. 

“What kind of story are you looking for?” You asked, shutting the book. 

“Tell us one about you.” 

“One about me?” You echoed. “That’s not very exciting.” 

“That’s not true.” Judith argued. “You’ve done lots of stuff.” 

“Yeah, tell one about the prison, when Jude was a baby.” RJ said. “With Mommy and Dad and Uncle Daryl.” 

You smiled sadly, a mix of memories filling your mind– sunshine in the grass, blood on the walls, laughter echoing through the cell block, fever taking hold, a newborn baby girl, explosions rumbling and rocking the ground. 

“Alright,” You agreed, settling down into the pillows. “Get nice and comfy.” 

RJ curled up against your left side while Judith rested her cheek against your right shoulder. 

“Years and years ago, before we came to Alexandria, before you were born,” you tapped RJ on the nose, making him giggle, “When Judith was just a tiny little thing, barely able to sit up on her own, your dad decided to become a farmer.” 

“He did? I thought Dad was the leader.” 

“He was. Your dad was a lot of things. Before the world became the way it is now, your dad was a sheriff. He wore Judith’s hat and helped stop people from doing bad things. After things changed, he was always a leader, but it wasn’t the same. While we were at the prison, he decided to become a farmer too. He asked Hershel to help teach him how to do it.” 

“Your dad.” 

“Well not my dad how your dad is yours, but Hershel and his daughters, your aunts Maggie and Beth, were my family. We all started out on a farm together. That’s how we met your dad and Uncle Daryl. They came to our farm one day because your big brother Carl needed help.” 

“You and Hershel made him all better, right?” 

“It was mostly Hershel then, I was still learning how to be a doctor. Anyway, your Dad wanted to be a farmer. He was smart to want it, since farming was how we’d have a long-term supply of food. Scavenging is dangerous and unreliable while a garden is safe and controllable. But we wanted more than a garden, we wanted a farm. And a farm has animals.

“So everyone going in and out of the prison was told to be on the lookout for farm animals that might be running wild in the woods or around old houses. And one day, while Beth and I were in the cell block looking after you, Bug, we heard this big commotion outside. People shouting and what sounded like someone screaming. So we went out to see what was going on.

“As it turned out, Daryl and Glenn had found a couple of pigs on a supply run. But after being corralled into the back of a truck and then taken on a long ride, the poor things were disoriented and frightened. So the minute Glenn opened up the back of the truck, the pigs came flying out trying to escape. By the time Beth and I made it out there, they were all running around the yard trying to catch the pigs. All these big tough guys who could take on a herd and win were out there running around with their arms flailing, trying to catch a few little pigs. It made you laugh so hard, Judith, you were squealing almost as loud as the pigs.” 

Judith smiled as RJ giggled into your shoulder, “That’s funny. Tell another one.” 

“Magic word?” 

“Please.” He intoned, stretching it out. 

“Alright.” You relented, admittedly happy for a little trip down memory lane. Remembering was difficult, when the road was littered with so much pain, so many people lost or taken from you. But the road was more than grief, it was also paved in love. The children at your side were evidence of that love, and they would carry it on into the future. 

“Have I ever told you about the day we met Uncle Aaron?” 

~

Michonne returned after two days, greeted at the door with excited hugs and freshly made pancake batter. She looked exhausted, but a soft smile lifted the corners of her lips as she held her children. 

You left for the woods again three days after that. 

It was later than you wanted, maybe less than an hour before sunset. You wanted to make it to the camp before dark, before it would be harder to see the way, before the walkers got more active. You picked up the pace a bit, boots tapping against the pavement as you headed for the stables.

A sound pierced the air as you passed the meeting hall– a low two-note whistle. The shiver of fear that ran down your spine was involuntary, an instinctual reaction to the noise which had accompanied so much pain and suffering. 

You stopped walking as a deep chuckle rumbled out after the whistle. Turning slowly to face him, you willed the initial fear away. He had no power over you. Not anymore. 

“Well hello there, Dr. Dixon.” You couldn’t see him very well, just the top half of his face looking out from his basement cell window, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“What do you want, Negan.”

“Shit, sweetheart, I’m wondering what  _ you  _ want. You don’t have to go to all the trouble of getting on a goddamn horse and risking your neck out there. If you’re looking for a little  _ satisfaction _ , I’m sure I can do a much better job than old Daryl.” 

You scoffed. “Yeah, when Hell freezes over.” 

“Suit your-fucking-self, then.” He said. “Your mistake, sweetheart.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Negan.” You said. “Since you seem to need it so badly.” 

He laughed at that, but you were already walking away again. You didn’t stop again until you reached the stables, swinging yourself up onto Missy’s back and galloping out of the gates. 

With every thump of her hooves against the ground, a different image painted itself against the back of your mind– a clearing in the dead of night, the dirt splattered with blood; nightmares in an empty bed; your home in flames; Carl’s pale face smiling weakly in the light of a tunnel; gunfire and blood and tears and war. 

Your skin prickled with heat, sadness and unease and anger all boiling within you. You rode on in agitation, finally making it to the edge of the river just before the sun dipped beneath the horizon. 

The campfire was already burning, a skinned squirrel balanced on a spit above the flames. Dog ran up to you, barking in excitement as you slowed Missy to a stop. She huffed at him, snuffling at her friend as you dismounted. 

Daryl emerged from the tent, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. Restless, you gave into impulse and rushed for him. He met you with an unquestioning embrace, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Just feeling the warmth of him, breathing him in, you felt immediately better. 

“Y’alright?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. 

“Yeah,” You pulled back to look at him, “I missed you.” 

“Missed ya too,” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Jus’ didn’ think ya’d be here this week.” 

You cocked your head. “Why not?” 

“Well ‘s yer, uh,” He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears going a bit red, “Yer time o’th’– an’ th’blood attracts–” 

He clamped his mouth shut at the sight of the huge grin spreading across your face. You cupped his cheeks, kissing him sweetly. 

“Oh you wonderful man. You were keeping track of my period?” 

He scoffed indignantly. “Ain’t as safe out here when ‘s like that.” 

“Well it’s not an exact cycle. There’s always a few days' difference. At least for me, anyway. So we’re okay for tonight.” You said, carding your fingers through his hair. You pulled at the strands at the back of his head gently. “Your hair’s getting long.”

“Yeah,” He rasped. “‘S hard t’get the back.” 

“I can do it.” You offered. “If you want.” 

“Alright,” Daryl nodded, nodding towards the campfire. “Dinner’s still cookin’ anyways.” 

You watched with a smile as Daryl settled by the fire. As much as you preferred living in Alexandria with him, you did enjoy staying at his camp. He was at ease out there, more relaxed and confident than you’d ever seen him. And, admittedly, there was a small part of you that really liked the feeling of being protected and provided for, even in the wilderness. It was primal and unnecessary, but it was pretty hot. 

“Ya comin’ or what?” He called, giving you a look. 

“Sorry, yes.” You walked over to stand behind him. 

Daryl took off his vest, setting it on the ground beside him while you pulled your knife from the sheath at your belt. You separated out a section of his hair, holding it against the blade and carefully pulling your knife towards you. Letting the shorn locks fall to the ground, you repeated the motion with a new section. 

“What had ya so upset ‘fore?” 

“What?” 

“When ya got here.” He said. “Ya looked like somethin’ bad had happened.” 

“Nothing–nothing  _ bad.  _ Just...Negan shouted at me on my way out of town.” Daryl stiffened. “I’m fine. He didn’t  _ do  _ anything. It just...it brought stuff back, you know? Memories.” 

“Didn’ know he talked t’ya.” Daryl’s voice was hard, his shoulders tense.

“He doesn’t. Not usually.” You explained. “He talks to Judith, though. I see her sitting on the steps, talking to him, from the infirmary. I don’t–she doesn’t know I know. She knows who he is. What he did. He can’t hurt her. And I figured...I don’t know, I just remember being her age and if anyone told me to stop doing something, a part of me just wanted to do it more.” 

“What d’they talk about?” 

“Her homework, mostly.” You laughed slightly. “She only lets him hear about math because it doesn’t involve a moral compass.” 

“She’s a smart kid.” 

“She asks about you. Her and RJ both.” You said, cutting the last section of hair. “They loved their gifts, by the way. Sent some back for you, too.” 

You put the knife away, trading it for a folded stack of papers in your pocket. Sitting down on Daryl’s right side, you handed them over. He let out an amused grunt as he unfolded the first one, taking in the colorful stick figures. 

“‘S this th’prison?” 

“I told them the pig story.” You explained. 

Daryl chuckled, a small smile playing at his lips. “Remember ya laughing at us instead of helping catch the lil sons of bitches.” 

“I was holding the baby!” You protested. “And it was  _ really  _ funny.” 

Daryl opened the other drawing. Judith, having the clearest memory of her uncle, had done a portrait of the four of you– Daryl and his crossbow on the left, Judith and RJ in the middle, and you with a stack of pancakes on the right.

“Pancakes?” 

“It’s my specialty these days. That and blanket forts.” You said. “I’m a cool aunt, don’t you know.” 

“Ya never made me pancakes.” Daryl bumped your shoulder with his. “Or blanket forts.” 

“Come back to my turf sometime and I’ll give you the whole experience.” 

You were teasing, but your words made Daryl grow serious. He stared into the fire for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“You don’t have to–I was kidding.” You reached for his hand. 

“Nah,” He squeezed your hand, looking back at you. “I know. Jus’...came out here t’look for him. But after a while, I dunno, got easier t’jus’ be out here. ‘Stead of back there with the Council an’ not talkin’ t’Hilltop or Kingdom.” 

You looked down at your intertwined hands, chest tightening. For years, you’d contented yourself with the small rebellion of seeing Daryl, telling yourself it was enough. But you missed the others too. You missed Tara and Maggie and Carol. You missed your family. 

“I thought it would be over by now.” You said. “Michonne’s not getting better, Daryl. It’s like seeing a stranger in the face of someone you once knew. I don’t know how long we can go on the way we are. Alexandria...it’s not meant to be isolated. No one is.” 

Daryl was quiet, his fingers finding your ring and smoothing along the simple gold band. You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. He turned his head enough to press a gentle kiss into your hair. 

You stared into the fire, uncertain where the next days would take you, but content for the moment to be wrapped up next to the love of your life. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexandria receives new visitors and you receive some life-changing news, prompting thoughts of trust, loyalty, and risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a big weekend! I just moved in at college for the first time (like for real in person this time around) and I'm super excited about it :D Plus, there's the new chapter of this lovely fic! Hope you enjoy the start of The Plot <3

Siddiq was late. He was supposed to join you in the infirmary at ten, and it was nearly ten minutes past. 

That’s just as well, though, as you were too occupied emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet to notice his tardiness. You heaved and gagged one more time, holding onto the seat with one hand and keeping your hair back with the other. 

You weren’t sure where the wave of sickness had come from. You hadn’t felt ill the day before. Standing up from bed earlier in the morning you’d been a bit light-headed, but other than that you were fine. 

You took a long, slightly shaking breath before flushing and getting to your feet. You washed your hands, cupping a few handfuls of water into your mouth to wash as much of the foul taste of vomit away as you could. 

By the time you walked back out into the main treatment area, you were almost normal again. Your stomach had calmed, though the slight faint feeling from earlier seemed to have returned. 

You were carefully sipping a glass of water when the infirmary door burst open with a bang. Siddiq and two others maneuvered quickly inside, carrying a woman between them. You didn’t recognize her. 

“What’s happened?” 

“Head trauma,” Siddiq called as you immediately began to wash your hands. “Hunting group picked her and a few others up in the woods.” 

You hurried over to where they’d laid her down on the exam table. She was a bit older than you, with long straight dark hair and almond shaped eyes. Her eyes were open, but glazed over as she blinked slowly. 

“Can you tell us your name?” You asked, carefully moving her hair away from her wound. 

“Yumiko.” She managed, revealing an English accent. 

“Nice to meet you, Yumiko. My name is Y/N Dixon. I’m one of the doctors here. The other one is Siddiq. We need you to stay awake for us, okay?” You said, pressing gauze against the wound while Siddiq prepped the sutures. 

Yumiko nodded slightly, blinking more rapidly as she tried to stay conscious. 

“My friends–” She said, voice strained.

“They’re safe. Our people won’t do anything to harm them.” Siddiq promised, meeting your questioning gaze. 

There was certain to be a council meeting about this. Michonne wasn’t on the hunting trip or Yumiko’s group wouldn’t have made it through the gates at all. Now that they were here, you doubted she’d let them stay. 

Although if Yumiko was anything to go by, their group was a strong one. She stayed awake through the whole procedure, barely flinching at the stitches. Once the bleeding was stopped and she was properly bandaged, you helped her settle back against the bed for some rest. 

Gabriel came by a few minutes later, calling Siddiq to the meeting house. Siddiq glanced back at you as if asking permission. 

“You didn’t look too good when we came in before. You okay on your own?” 

“Just a passing thing. I’m fine.” You waved him off, “Go.” 

Siddiq nodded, although he didn’t look like he believed you. 

He patted the doorway with his hand, looking back. “Maybe you got that bug Rosita has.” 

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Just try to rest up.” Siddiq gave you a reassuring smile before following Gabriel out of the infirmary. 

You leaned forward in your chair, resting your elbows against your knees and leaning your face in your hands as you looked at Yumiko’s sleeping form. You weren’t really seeing her, though. 

Instead, you were lost in your thoughts. 

Thoughts of what the council meeting would bring– whether this group was a sign of progress, whether Michonne could take a chance again, whether they would be evicted once Yumiko was recovered. 

Thoughts of what the cause of your sickness could be. Siddiq’s diagnosis, though wrong, might not be too far off the mark. You were light-headed, nauseous and vomiting one moment and then fine the next. And your period, which was supposed to have started two weeks ago, still hadn’t come. They were all symptoms of the same thing. 

You stood up, moving towards the cabinet on an impulse. You opened it up, pulling out a pregnancy test. 

~

“How do you know if you can trust somebody?” 

At Judith’s question, you looked up from the shirt you were folding.“That’s a big question, Bug.” 

She shifted on the edge of your bed, turning to sit cross-legged as she looked up at you. 

“But you have to have a way, right? You trust Mom and Uncle Daryl and Uncle Aaron.” 

“I do.” You nodded, putting the clothes away and coming to sit next to her. “Is this about the group you found today?” 

She nodded. “I don’t think Mom wants them to stay. I think she thinks they’re bad people.” 

“What do you think?” 

“They don’t look like bad people.” 

“But that’s the thing, Bug,” You said. “How do you know what bad people  _ look  _ like?” 

“I guess...I don’t?” 

“Neither do I.” You said. “Bad people can look a lot like good people. Sometimes more like good people than the real good ones. Trust takes a long time, and there are some people you might never be able to trust completely. But it’s about what people do. Do they help other people, do they help you, do they seem to know what’s right and what’s wrong? And it’s about how you feel. Not if you’re sad or happy, but if you feel comfortable with them or if they make you feel nervous or uneasy. That’s where you have to trust, Bug. You have to trust that feeling.” 

Judith was quiet for a moment, considering your words. 

“I don’t feel like they’re bad people.” She finally said. “When they were talking...it reminded me of the stories you tell me and RJ. From before Alexandria, when it was just you and Mom and Dad and Daryl and the others. I feel like they’re like you. And I trust you.” 

“Well that’s nice to know.” You smiled, smoothing your hand over her hair. 

Someone cleared their throat, drawing both your attentions to the door. Michonne stood in the doorway, looking at the two of you with an unreadable expression. You wondered how much of your conversation she’d overheard. 

“Bedtime,” You prompted, standing up. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Judith said, wrapping her arms around your hips. 

“Goodnight, Bug,” You returned, patting her back gently. “Sweet dreams.” 

Michonne led Judith into the hallway, a hand on her daughter’s back. She looked back at you, expression softer this time. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“Sleep well, Michonne.” You smiled, shutting your bedroom door after them. 

You sank back down onto your bed, holding your face in your hands. After a few deep breaths, you reached carefully into your back pocket and pulled out the plastic stick wrapped in paper towels. 

You’d taken the test hours earlier, alone in the infirmary bathroom. You hadn’t been able to look at it, though. You weren’t ready to face the inevitable consequences. But you couldn’t ignore it forever. 

You weren’t sure what you wanted. If the test was negative you could just move on and pretend nothing had ever happened. Your life would continue on as it was. If it was positive, a lot would change. Your body, your priorities, your responsibilities, your relationship.

_ That  _ was a whole other can of worms. You knew Daryl would be an amazing father. You could feel that in your bones. But whether he wanted to be...that wasn’t something you’d ever really talked about. 

You weren’t in a relationship when Judith was born. When Hershel was born years later, things had been different. And the two of you weren’t exactly in a talking place when RJ came around. You knew you liked the idea of being a mother, of guiding a child into life and helping them learn how to be. But was it something you could  _ actually  _ handle? A lot could go wrong with the pregnancy alone, not to mention the wild unpredictability of the world the child would have to grow up in. But all that mess could be worth it, if it meant building a better world, a better future. 

But there was no use worrying until you knew there was something to worry about, you supposed, unwrapping the paper towels with trembling fingers. 

You stared at it for a moment, letting the reality sink in. The test dropped into your lap as your hands came up to cover your mouth. You took a shaking breath, tears filling your eyes. Whether they were fear or joy or sadness or all of the above, you couldn’t quite tell. 

You were pregnant. 

~

Your newfound secret proved easier to keep than you’d expected. The knowledge that there was a spark of life inside you, steadily growing bigger weighed heavily on the back of your mind. But the busier you were, the easier it was to pretend things were normal, to keep plugging along until your next visit to Daryl’s camp. 

Meeting the rest of Yumiko’s group was a welcome distraction. They all came to visit her as she made an impressively fast recovery. 

Luke, a stocky music teacher with a cheesy sense of humor, was the chattiest. He was the most forthcoming about their history, telling you about other injuries they’d survived, including the time he’d dislocated his shoulder playing ping pong in high school. 

Connie and Kelly were sisters, Connie a few years older than you and Kelly a few years younger. You liked them right away. Connie was deaf and gave you a big smile when you awkwardly signed hello and your own name. 

“Sorry,” You signed the word and then said the rest. “I can’t remember much more than that.” 

Connie put a hand on your shoulder, giving you a sincere smile. 

“It’s all good.” Kelly smiled too. “Where’d you learn to sign? We don’t meet many who know it.” 

“Learn is a strong word.” You laughed. “I took ASL as an elective at a summer program I did. I wish I’d done more with it, though. My four years of high school Spanish hasn’t been much help lately.” 

“You said you’re a doctor?” Magna, the other member of the group interrupted, sizing you up. “You look young.” 

She was the quietest of all of them, the most watchful. She reminded you of Michonne. You straightened up slightly, meeting her gaze. 

“I’m twenty-seven. I didn’t get a chance to go to med school before this all started, but I’ve learned from the best.” 

“She knows what she’s doing.” Yumiko cut in, taking Magna’s hand. 

Connie looked around the infirmary, signing again as Kelly interpreted. “You’re a lucky community to have two doctors.” 

“I think we’re lucky doctors.” You said. 

“You know,” Luke mused, “I always thought I’d make a good doctor.” 

The rest of the group let out a collective sigh. 

“Here we go.” Kelly rolled her eyes. 

“What?” Luke held up his hands, “I would!” 

You smiled, enjoying their rapport. You understood what Judith meant last night. They reminded you of your friends, too. 

It was difficult, then, to watch as Michonne ushered them out of Alexandria the following morning. You stood next to Judith as they prepared to leave, heart heavy with the sense that you were making a big mistake. 

“If I knew we were going to be booted as soon as I recovered I would have hit my head a lot harder.” Yumiko joked, pulling on her backpack. 

“You know, it’s not too late.” 

“Doc,” Luke shook Siddiq’s hand and then turned to you, “Other Doc. Thank you.” 

You squeezed his hand, giving him a smile. You patted Yumiko’s shoulder next, checking that her bandage was secure. 

“Keep an eye on that, alright? Take it as easy as you can.” 

“I’ll try.” She squeezed your arm. “Thank you for everything, Y/N.” 

“Of course.” 

You nodded to Magna, and she nodded back. You didn’t miss the way her fingers were intertwined with Yumiko’s. Connie pulled you into a hug, signing “thank you” as she pulled back. You smiled, signing back “you’re welcome.” 

You and Judith and the others walked with them towards the gate, only making it a few feet before the sight of Michonne riding up stopped you. 

“Change of plans.” She said, tossing something to Judith. “There’s a place a lot like this one. The leader might take you in. I’ll escort you personally, talk to her.” 

“You’re going to Hilltop?” You asked, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. 

“With Siddiq, too. He can keep an eye on your patient.” 

Connie crouched in front of Judith, signing “thank you.” Judith smiled softly. 

“Good luck.” 

Kelly showed her the sign. Judith tried, but it came out closer to flail than a word. You and Connie chuckled. You put a hand on Judith’s shoulder, smiling. 

“We’ll work on it for next time.” You promised. 

You and Judith stood together, watching as the caravan left for Hilltop. You absently let your hand rest on your stomach, your thoughts turning towards hope. 

~

Beyond the walls of your house, thunder rumbled and lightning cracked. RJ nestled closer to you, hiding his face against your side. You tightened your arm around him, rubbing gentle circles against his back. Gracie was already asleep, snoring softly against your other shoulder. 

Only you knew the cause of Aaron’s disappearances and considering your own habit of leaving the gates, you were more than happy to have Gracie join your blanket fort and pancake parties. 

Judith, already as brave (if not more so) than her father, sat by the window. She watched the storm, not with fear or curiosity, but with careful observation. Like she was trying to discern whether it was her friend or her foe. 

“Come away from there, Bug.” You called. “We should all try to get some rest.” 

She turned to look at you, her tiny face illuminated in a flash of lightning. “Do you think they found him?” 

Your chest tightened. The messenger had come from Hilltop that afternoon, reporting Rosita’s injury and Eugene’s disappearance. You were glad for Siddiq’s presence at Hilltop. With Enid’s help, he would make sure Rosita would be okay. 

But Eugene…

“I hope so. If there’s anything we’re good at, it’s finding each other.” You managed a smile, patting the blankets. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now. And we’ll want to be rested and in tip top shape when everybody comes home again so we can help them.”

“I guess you’re right.” Judith relented, padding over and crawling into the fort with you.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.” 

“You too, Y/N.” She said, giving you a soft smile as she switched off the light and lay down next to her brother. 

By the time you woke up, the storm was gone. And so was Judith. 

But you had something slightly more pressing to take care of before you could check the rest of the house to find her.

You carefully extricated yourself from the pile of sleeping children and rushed to the bathroom, barely making it in time before you were vomiting into the toilet. The sudden rush of morning sickness didn’t last very long. After just a few minutes you felt better, able to stand and quickly brush your teeth before padding out into the hallway. 

“Bug?” You called softly, slowly pushing open Judith’s bedroom door. 

Her bed was empty and just as neatly made as it had been the night before. You checked RJ’s room too, and then did a sweep of the downstairs. 

She was nowhere to be found. 

Your heart began to pound, seeds of worry and panic planting themselves in your stomach as you yanked your boots on and ran outside. Your mind flashed back to that horrible morning, years earlier, running through the streets with Michonne, shouting Judith’s name. 

The street was empty, cast in the pale blue light of early morning. You ran towards the gate, scanning front yards and gardens along the way. 

Finally, you spotted her by the South wall, relief washing over you. She was looking up at the top of the wall, as if waiting for something to come over it. Hearing your footsteps, Judith turned around. Guilt flashed across her face before she gave you a sheepish smile. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

“What are you doing, Bug?” You asked, crouching down and holding her shoulders. “You frightened me, going out without saying anything.” 

“Sorry.” She said, looking down. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s okay.” You tapped her chin, making her look at you “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling again. “I just wanted to see the sunrise.” 

You cocked your head, studying her carefully. 

“This is the South wall, Bug. You know that.” 

“Oh, right.” She said, unconvincingly. “I got confused. Can we go have pancakes?” 

She was hiding something, that was obvious. But she wasn’t hurt, and you trusted her to handle her own business. She’d proven time and again that she could, after all. 

“Okay,” You stood up, offering your hand. “Let’s go have pancakes.” 

Judith’s secret was exposed about an hour later, when Gabriel sounded the alarm. 

“Negan has escaped.” 

You and Laurel went out together on horseback to search the surrounding woods while other groups took the roads. Missy nearly took you to Daryl’s camp a few times, as if on some kind of autopilot. Part of you wanted to go, to tell Laurel you should split up and run straight into your husband’s arms. 

Who really cared what happened to Negan? As long he stayed the hell away from Alexandria, you were happy. You had bigger things to worry about. 

You held the reins with one hand, the other traveling to your stomach as your thoughts wandered. You thought about how he was going to react. Honestly, you had no clue what Daryl would say. Whether he would be stunned or angry or excited. Maybe a little bit of everything. 

How would this all work? You couldn’t keep visiting here and there. A camp in the woods with walkers all around was no place to raise a child. 

Would he be willing to come back? For you, for your future child? 

You wanted to believe he would, but how could you know? Spurring Missy on, you internally kicked yourself for never bringing the idea up with him. It wasn’t like the two of you had been particularly careful. Pregnancy was always a risk. Or maybe it was a possibility. 

You weren’t sure which was more accurate. Risk or possibility...that would depend on Daryl. 

“I don’t think he’s out here.” Laurel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “We’ve been looking for hours at this point. I mean...I don’t actually want to find the asshole. Do you?” 

“I don’t know.” You said, scanning the trees and seeing nothing. “But I do know I want to head home.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Negan seemed to share your sentiment. By the time you were back, he had returned to Alexandria – and his cell – voluntarily. And not entirely on his own, if Judith’s quiet smile was anything to go by. 

Unfortunately for you, with Siddiq at Hilltop, you had to go in and patch up the injuries he’d sustained on his day out. 

Negan was sitting underneath his window, bouncing a tennis ball against the wall when you came in. He didn’t even look up at the sound of Laurel opening the outer door for you.

“Not talking to any of you shitheads except Michonne.” 

“Fine.” You said, and his head snapped to look at you. “I’m not here to talk.” 

A slow smile spread across his face. “Come to make good on your promise, sweetheart? I haven’t forgotten about that.” 

“Not today, I’m sad to say.” You said dryly. “Stand up and put your back to the bars with your hands behind you.” 

“Shit,” He chuckled, getting to his feet. Despite the bravado, he was favoring his right leg. “You know I can’t resist an assertive woman.” 

You waited as Laurel handcuffed him against the bars. When he was secured, she unlocked the cell and opened the door. You carried your medical bag inside, setting it down on Negan’s cot. 

You remained several feet away from him, arms crossed as you held his gaze. “What happened to your leg?” 

“Just a little road rash, sweetheart.” He tilted his head nonchalantly. “I’ll be fine.” 

“As much as I’d love for you to die of infection, it’s kind of my job to keep that from happening.” You said, unzipping your bag and pulling out disinfectant, ointment, and bandages. 

You looked through the bars at Laurel. “Help him to sit on the ground.” 

Negan sneered, “What? Getting on your knees for me would be just too fucking tempting?” 

“Shut up and extend your leg.” You ordered, grabbing the hem of his pants and ripping the fabric up to his knee. 

“Oooh,” Negan chuckled. “Mama bear.” 

Your head snapped up, eyes flashing. “How–what did you just call me?” 

“Mama bear,” He repeated, studying you carefully. “Thought it was fitting considering that little den you have set up for all your fucking cubs.”

Your heart calmed slightly at the clarification. “You were in the house?” 

“Easy there sweetheart— _ shit _ .” He hissed as you cleaned his leg with a little more pressure than necessary. “I was just stretching my legs, alright? Happened to stumble upon the slumber party scene.” 

You covered the lacerations with ointment, wrapping his leg lightly with the bandage. He watched you the whole time. You could practically hear the gears turning in his brain. Still, you ignored him, packing your bag up.

He waited until you were in the cell doorway before speaking. “So when’s the little redneck due?” 

“Don’t put too much weight on your leg for a few days.” You said, nausea swirling in your stomach. “Or do. I don’t give a shit.” 

You left before he could say anything else, bending over the nearest bush and throwing up. Hands on your knees, you took several deep breaths. 

The nausea cleared after a few minutes, but the unease remained. 


	3. The Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In our first flashback chapter, Negan comes to visit Alexandria and you’re less than pleased with what his arrival brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to delay giving Daryl the big news, but there’s some ~historical context~ involved in this story and we have to roll out the flashbacks here and there so we can truly appreciate the ~character development~ :D

Before the war, before everything that came after, you spoke to Negan exactly twice. Two times you came face to face with the “big man” himself in all his egomaniacal glory. Suffice to say, you did not enjoy either of his visits to Alexandria. 

The first came barely a week after the nightmare in that clearing in the woods. You were in the infirmary when the Saviors rolled in with their big trucks and a small battalion’s worth of men. 

You were always in the infirmary. After the night in the woods you went home long enough to grab something to eat or pick up a medical textbook before going back. You spent the nights there, unable to face the emptiness of your bed. 

Not that you were sleeping anyway. Without Daryl, especially knowing he was somewhere else enduring God knows what, you couldn’t get more than an hour or two before the nightmares woke you. 

Drowning in images of the people you’d lost – Beth’s blood-stained blonde hair, Hershel’s neck snapping to the side, Glenn’s unrecognizable body – you stood from the exam table and dragged yourself to the desk and read until morning. 

You read or you picked up your knife or your machete and you trained. That became your life– preparing, training. That became your focus. 

So you were doing just that, repeating knife drills while reciting every anatomy mnemonic you knew, when Carl slammed the door open. 

“He’s here.” 

You didn’t need to ask what he meant, you were already running out the door. Feet pounding against the pavement as you rounded the corner, the front gate came into view. 

Negan was easy to spot, wearing his leather jacket and a big, self-satisfied grin. Rick stood behind him, Lucille held loosely in his grasp. What looked like a sea of Saviors stood behind them, crowding the gate and spilling into your home with their guns and predatory gazes. 

Then you saw him, and you stopped in your tracks. 

Daryl had been pushed to the front, wearing a stained and soiled sweatsuit with the letter ‘A’ spray painted on the front. His hair fell over his bruised and dirtied face, but it didn’t hide the pain. 

Daryl looked  _ broken _ . 

Tears shone in his eyes, brightening the sky blue of his irises. He held his arms in front of him, curling into himself like an abused puppy. 

Chest aching at the sight, you took a few hesitant steps toward him. Daryl caught sight of you then, and exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping. His gaze dropped to the ground, like he was ashamed to look at you. 

You walked faster, needing to be with him. “Daryl–” 

When you were just a few feet away, a leather jacket blocked your path. You halted, meeting Negan’s gaze just a few inches from your face. 

“Ah, ah, ah. No. Nope.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head at you. 

Negan leaned backwards, catching Rick’s eye as well. “He’s the help. You don’t look at him, you don’t talk to him, and I don’t make you cut anything off of him.” 

Anger sparked in your stomach, quickly replacing the sadness which had overwhelmed you for so long. You clenched your jaw, glaring as Negan swung back to meet your gaze. 

“Same goes for everyone, sweetheart.” He said, getting close to your face and staring you down. “Right?” 

Your palms began to itch. You flexed your fingers, curling them into fists and uncurling them again. Your jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. 

It would be so easy. Rick had Lucille. You could just grab your knife and faster than Negan could blink, your blade would have sliced his jugular. You knew you could do it. You wanted to do it. 

But you knew in the next second, his men would kill you. They’d kill Daryl too. And then everyone else you loved. 

Negan knew it too. You could see it in the way he was smiling at you like you were something he owned. A new toy he wanted to play with. 

Well, you weren’t going to let him play for long. 

You exhaled as slow as you could, and turned away. Starting to walk towards the infirmary again, you put everything you had into keeping yourself from looking back at Daryl. 

“Atta girl,” Negan called after you. You heard him turn to Rick, “Lotta suspense there, I like her.”

You clenched your fists, taking careful breaths in your nose and letting them out in a slow stream. With every step, you repeated the same mantra in your mind. 

_ He needs you, don’t let him down. He needs you, don’t let down. He needs you, don’t let him down.  _

_ Keep him safe. Keep him alive. Keep him safe. Keep. Him. Alive.  _

A group of Saviors arrived not long after you returned to the infirmary. You stood and watched as they knocked all the medicine off the shelves and dumped out every drawer and cabinet. They sorted through it all carelessly, throwing what they wanted into bags and tossing the rest over their shoulders. 

You didn’t beg them to stop. You didn’t plead for them to leave the antibiotics or the bandages. Begging would only egg them on, pleading would only make you weaker to them. It would only help them win. 

And you were not going to let them win. 

When they started ripping pages out of your textbooks, you couldn’t watch anymore. You walked out of the front door and stood on the stoop. You pushed your hair back out of your face and tried to breathe. 

Negan and Rick walked down the street, Daryl trailing behind. As they passed, Daryl kept his gaze on the ground. You couldn’t help but feel hurt. You wanted to talk to him, to help him and make it okay. Rick sent you an apologetic frown which just made you feel worse. 

And Negan, well, Negan simply winked at you like the two of you were sharing your own private joke. 

You decided you liked it better inside the infirmary. When you turned and went back inside, you didn’t see Daryl watching you. You didn’t see the heartbreak in his face.

When the Saviors had sufficiently gutted the place, they gathered back at the gate and prepared to leave. You knew it would hurt, but you went to watch them leave. To watch  _ him _ leave. 

You leaned against the wall, willing yourself to keep still and quiet even as Daryl stood a few yards away, head bowed as Rick and Negan talked. 

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Negan smiled at Rick. “You, sir...are special.” 

Rick looked over at you, guilt written all over his face. He worked his jaw, like he was chewing on his words before letting them out. 

“Now that you know we can follow your rules…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’d like to ask you if Daryl could stay.” 

You straightened immediately, watching them carefully. 

“Not happening.” Negan said, but then followed Rick’s gaze to where you stood. A knowing smile spread across his face. “You know what? I don’t know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case.  _ Maybe _ Daryl can sway me.” 

Negan looked back at the archer. “Daryl?” 

Part of you wanted him to do it. Part of you wanted him to beg and plead and fall to his knees and say whatever it was that Negan wanted him to say. Because you wanted him back. You wanted to keep him here, in his home, with you. You wanted to clean his wounds and patch him up and hold him and tell him you loved him. 

But the other part of you knew why he said nothing. Why he did nothing. Why he didn’t look at you. 

Because begging would only make you weaker. It would help Negan win. 

And you were not going to let Negan win. 

“Well, you tried.” Negan turned back to Rick, launching into another self-aggrandizing monologue. 

While attention was turned elsewhere, you felt a small burst of rebellion. Daryl did too. Or maybe he was finally giving in to temptation. Either way, your archer turned his head and looked at you. 

Before he could turn away again, before he retreated into himself, you held his gaze and mouthed three simple words. 

_ “I love you.” _

Daryl bit down on his lower lip, but you could see it quivering. The tears he’d been holding back since they arrived finally slipped down his face. He looked down at the ground, and you could see them falling onto the pavement. 

He inhaled, hastily wiping them away as he stared resolutely forward once more. You waited another moment, but Daryl didn’t look back. 

You felt your own tears welling up, a lump of hurt and desperation and fear clogging your throat. 

You couldn’t watch him go, you couldn’t watch them take him away from you again. So you turned and walked back to clean up your ransacked infirmary. 

_ Keep him safe. Keep him alive. Keep him safe. Keep him alive.  _

Your second talk with Negan came just a few days later. This time, he left his battalion at home. He came with just a few men and Carl, who’d stowed away on a transport out of Hilltop and gotten himself mixed up in things at the Sanctuary. 

Again, you were in the infirmary when he arrived. Eugene was with you, trying to help you figure out how to cook up your own supply of some basic medicines when Olivia came in with frightened eyes. 

“Negan...he’s here…” She said, out of breath from running and panic alike, “At Rick’s with Carl...he has Judith.” 

“I’m going.” You headed for the door. 

“Wait– he, um, he wanted this.” She held out a tin of powdered lemonade. 

You held back the urge to roll your eyes, accepting the tin. “Get everyone to stay away from the house. I don’t want anyone getting themselves killed today.” 

“O–okay.” She nodded. 

Outside Rick’s house, one of the Saviors stopped you with a hand clamped tight on your shoulder. 

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?”

You held up the tin, your face impassive. “He asked for lemonade. I’m bringing it.” 

The Savior narrowed his eyes, annoyed with your lack of response. “Well hold up a minute, I gotta check that’s  _ all _ you’re bringing.” 

He let go of your shoulder, forcing your arms up so he could pat you down. You clenched your jaw, trying to keep calm as he touched you. When his hands lid up the inseam of your pants, however, you lost it. Your knee hit his nose, knocking him backwards onto his ass as blood spurted from the appendage. 

He held his nose, face screwing up with rage. “You little bitch–” 

“Woah, hey!” A voice bellowed from the porch. “What in the damn hell is going on out here?” 

Getting your breath under control again, you held your chin high as you faced Negan. You knew this wouldn’t end well for you, but you were determined to go down strong. 

“Randy, would you care to explain why you’re laid out on your ass like Doogie Howser here just took your fucking lunch money?” 

“I was patting her down for weapons–”

Randy stopped as Negan let out a big sigh, shaking his head. 

“Randy...you see, you’re not even done but I know there’s a giant hole in that story of yours.” Negan smiled his signature charismatic smile, “I am willing to bet, and I mean all in kinda bet, that you put your hands where they were not supposed to be. And I’d wager further to guess that this  _ feisty _ young lady gave you exactly what you had coming.” 

“But she–” 

The smile dropped from Negan’s face in an instant, his voice rising to a bellow. “No! No, no, no, Randy. I know this feels like a fun little fucking vacation for you, but the staus is very much still fucking quo. Now, I’d suggest you pick your sorry ass up, apologize to Doc McStuffins over there and then take a little walk to clear your fucking head. How does that sound?” 

Randy bowed his head, looking like a schoolboy just reprimanded by his mother. “Yes, sir.” 

He turned towards you, but didn’t meet your gaze. He muttered a quick, barely audible apology and then high-tailed it down the street. Negan watched, smirking, until Randy was out of sight. 

“Now, now,” Negan’s smile grew into a grin as he turned back to you. “Is that a gift for me? Darlin’, you shouldn’t have.” 

You didn’t respond, just walked up to the porch and held out the lemonade. 

“Why don’t you come on in and join us? Dinner is almost ready.” Negan offered, pulling the tin out of your hand harder than necessary, using the momentum to tug you closer. “I wouldn’t mind the company.” 

You turned your head, your skin crawling at the proximity of his face to yours. But now your gaze was turned to the porch and suddenly all you could see was Daryl– sitting on the railing with his crossbow, standing on the porch and pulling you in for a kiss, watching you with heartbroken eyes and tears running down his cheeks. 

Meeting Negan’s gaze with a determined fire in your eyes, you answered his request. “Fine.” 

A grin spread slowly across his face, revealing straight white teeth and crinkling the skin around his eyes. He chuckled like a kid about to open the Christmas present he’d been waiting for all year.

You followed Negan inside. Carl stood in the kitchen, holding Judith in his arms. He’d taken off his bandage, the mangled scar over his eye on full display. They both saw you at the same time, Carl stiffening and shooting you a questioning look while Judith reached for you with a whimper. 

You moved to them, taking Judith and bouncing her gently. 

“I’m staying for dinner.” You shot Carl a meaningful look, hoping he understood your meaning:  _ I’m here to keep you safe _ . 

“Hell yeah, she is.” Negan sidled up behind you, wrapping an arm around your other side to hand back the lemonade. “Why don’t you mix us up a pitcher, sweetheart?” 

You pulled the tin from his hand roughly, turning your body to shield Judith from him. As you grabbed a pitcher from the cabinet and mixed the lemonade, you kept Negan in your peripheral vision. He pivoted to watch as Carl got out plates and silverware. 

“I  _ like _ this. Shaping up to be a real family dinner.” Negan gave a low whistle, settling down at the head of the table. “Ah, ah. We’re going to need another setting.” 

As Carl got a fifth setting, you finished the lemonade and carried the pitcher to the table. Looking up at you, Negan lifted his glass. Wordlessly, you filled it. Then you set the pitcher down with a heavy thunk. 

Carl put out a plate and napkin at the end of the table opposite Negan while you strapped Judith into her high chair, keeping your seat in between her and Negan. Carl settled on the other side of the table. 

“Well,” Negan reached for the pot of spaghetti, “Bon-fuckin’-appetit.” 

The four of you sat in tense silence for a while. Negan ate, you focused on feeding Judith, and Carl pushed his food around his plate. 

“Come on now,” Negan finally said, pushing his plate away. “Don’t make me get out the icebreakers. Family dinner. Sharing is caring and all that shit.” 

“What are you doing to Daryl?” 

The question was out before you could stop it, although you managed a more restrained tone than the anger simmering inside you. 

Negan raised his eyebrows, working his jaw for a moment as he considered you. 

“How old are you?” 

“What does that matter?”

“‘Cause I fucking asked, sweetheart.” He was still smiling, but his voice had lost its playfulness. 

“Twenty.” 

“Shit.” Negan sat back in his chair, running his tongue across his teeth. “I knew you were young but  _ damn _ . Daryl’s really robbing the fucking cradle, huh? Not that I can blame him.” 

You curled your hands into fists beneath the table, trying to contain your anger. “I asked you a question.” 

“And I am electing to ignore it.” Negan brushed you off. “So if you’re twenty, you were what, seventeen, when the shit hit the fan? Jesus, that’s a shitty deal. Barely out of the awkward phase, probably barely grown that  _ magnificent  _ pair of tits, looking forward to college and screwing around and drinking and then,” Negan snapped his fingers. “Boom. Everything turns to shit. You must have lost people, – I know I killed two of them – but I mean before, at the beginning. Was it your dad? Oh, I bet it was. That’s why you need a strong older man to take care of you and be your daddy–”

You heard the slap before you felt it, heard the echo of your palm against his face before you fully realized what you’d done. 

The moment didn’t last long, however, as Negan grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip. He hauled you to your feet, pulling you close and leaning down into your face. 

“You know, I am about 75% more attracted to you after that,” He said, a dangerous edge to his voice. “But if you  _ ever _ pull that shit again, you’ll never get to know what I did to Daryl. Got it?” 

“Got it.” You breathed, fear and rage battling within your chest. 

“Good.” Negan let go, sitting back down. 

Shakily, you sat too. You noticed that Carl was on his feet, fists clenched. Making eye contact, you slowly shook your head. He eyed you with uncertainty, but sank back down into his chair as well. 

“You know, I was gonna ask you to come back with me, to be one of my wives.” Negan mused, tearing a bread roll in half. “But I didn’t want to take Alexandria’s only medical professional away. I’m fucking benevolent like that.” 

“If I did–” Your stomach twisted with disgust as you spoke. “If I went back with you, would you let Daryl go?” 

Negan dropped his torn roll onto his plate, staring at you. “Well, aren’t you just full of fucking surprises.” 

“Would you?” 

“After your little  _ performance _ , I have to say I’m fucking tempted, sweetheart. Really, I am.” Negan patted a hand to his chest. “But that’s not going to happen. Daryl is mine now. If you want to be mine too, you’re more than fucking welcome. I’m a very generous husband.” He leaned closer, winking. “In  _ all  _ aspects.”

“No.” You forced a smile. “Thanks.” 

“Fucking shame.” Negan shook his head. “Suit yourself.” 

A commotion sounded on the front porch, drawing Negan’s attention. 

“I need to see Negan.” Came Spencer’s voice, sending through your chest that all-too familiar feeling of something bad about to happen.

“Excuse me a moment, sweetheart.” Negan shot you another wink, getting up from the table and sauntering to the front door.

The two of you didn’t speak again for a long time. 

That day, Spencer and Olivia were the first of many to fall in the war which reshaped everything. Though only weeks before everything changed, sitting at the table with Carl and Judith and Negan felt like a lifetime ago. 

By the time you two came face to face once more, things were completely different. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl returns to Alexandria, bringing new (and old) friends with him. The reunion brings news from both of you that will change your life together forever. For better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back in my dorm!! Thank FUCK! A tree root punctured a pipe outside my building and they had to move me to a freezing cold tiny room in the dorm where they house the COVID CASES AHHHHHH. But now I'm back, so yay!  
> Anywho, it’s that time of the week once more, and I’m very happy to bring you one of my favorite chapters in this story. :) Enjoy!

You felt like a caged tiger– prowling around in circles, trapped with nothing but your restless energy and whirling thoughts. 

A new threat had emerged. They always did. 

Calm wasn’t a certainty anymore. Normalcy was abnormal, just a momentary sense of peace before everything fell apart again. Life was just a cycle of crisis, resolution, calm, and then crisis again. And crisis always took a toll. 

“The Whisperers,” Michonne called them– a wandering group wearing the dead’s skin and blending in with herds were the ones who drove Eugene into hiding during the storm. They were the ones who cornered him and the others in a graveyard. 

Everyone but Jesus made it out. 

Everyone including your husband. He was back at Hilltop with one of the Whisperers’ own, a girl they’d captured after the storm. 

Aaron returned with Michonne, heartbroken. You’d seen devastation like that in his face only once before, when the two of you wept together at the base of a tree. When he’d lost the love of his life. Your heart ached for the loss of your friend and sympathy with Aaron’s pain. But it was that sympathy that made your goal clear. 

“I have to go to Hilltop.” 

“No.” Aaron grabbed your wrist. “I didn’t see it before, why Michonne had things locked down. But she’s right.” 

“You don’t understand. I  _ have  _ to go.” You argued, your hand unconsciously touching your stomach. 

“I do understand, Y/N.” Aaron said, his jaw set. “And that’s why I can’t let you.”

“Daryl will be alright.” Michonne squeezed your shoulder. “And we need you here.” 

Siddiq had remained at Hilltop with Rosita. He knew about her pregnancy now, and Michonne was willing to accommodate. 

It was almost laughable– you wanted to leave for the same reason Siddiq had to stay. But if you told them, they’d never let you out of the gates again. 

Michonne and Aaron were family and you loved them. But sometimes they had trouble understanding you weren’t the girl they’d met all those years ago. 

“Fine.” 

Another day passed, and with every minute you grew more restless. You were pacing the length of the infirmary when Judith poked her head through the door, expression concerned. 

“Uncle Daryl’s at the gate.” 

You snapped to attention, heart rate spiking. “And they aren’t letting him in?” 

“Other people are with him.” 

“Go look after your brother.” You said, heading out the door. “Thanks for telling me, Bug.” 

You jogged to the gate, seeing Michonne and Aaron on the guard platform. As you slowed, you could hear Daryl’s voice.   
“Henry’s hurt. Y’were closest. Wouldn’t’ve come, but we had no choice.” 

“What about her?” Michonne asked. 

“She’s with us.” Another voice answered. 

“Michonne, let them in.” You shouted. 

She looked down at you, her expression stony. You set your hands on your hips, holding her gaze. 

“Either let them in or let me out.” 

Michonne turned to Aaron, the two of them speaking softly for a moment. Michonne glanced at you before nodding to the guards below. 

“Open it!” 

The second the gate was wide enough, you were outside. Dog immediately rose from where he’d settled at Daryl’s feet, giving you an excited bark. Three others stood with them. You only recognized Connie. The other two were teenagers– a boy with blonde hair and kind eyes, and a girl with lanky dark hair who looked like she was trying to retreat into herself. 

The closer you got, you realized you did know the boy. You’d last seen him when he was about a foot and a half shorter, sticking close to Carol. Now he was all grown up, sporting a nasty cut on his leg. 

“Hey,” Daryl touched your arm as you reached them, his expression soft. 

“Hi handsome,” You smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it quickly. You could feel emotion rising in your chest, so you refocused your attention before it could get the better of you. 

“Long time no see, Henry.” You said, moving around to put his arm over your shoulder and helping him towards the gate. “Let’s get you fixed up.” 

The girl was named Lydia. She was one of the Whisperers, the one they’d brought back to Hilltop. She’d left them voluntarily when Daryl and Connie went to rescue Henry after he’d taken off after her– he clearly hadn’t picked up his mother’s common sense, but you admired his heart. You understood Michonne’s wariness at first, but watching her interactions with Henry and Daryl were enough to assuage your doubts. 

She held Henry’s hand tightly, quietly reassuring him the whole time he sat on the exam table while you stitched him up. From the porch beyond the infirmary, you could see Daryl watching you in your periphery. He glanced between you and Lydia, as if wondering what you thought of each other. 

“Alright, all finished.” You declared, patting Henry’s knee. 

You grabbed two lollipops out of the desk drawer, handing one to each of them. You noticed Lydia pull her hand away from yours quickly, as if scared of being touched. Your chest tightened, wondering at the implications of her gesture.

They both looked at the lollipops and then back at you, confused. 

“Oh, now I feel old.” You smiled. “In real doctor’s offices, before, they’d give you lollipops on the way out.” 

“Why?” Henry wondered. 

“It was free candy, so I never thought to ask.” You shrugged, happy to see them both unwrapping the treats. “Enjoy those and rest up for a bit, okay?” 

You patted Henry’s shoulder, giving Lydia a smile. She seemed surprised by it, blinking at you and looking away. It reminded you of how Daryl used to react when you’d smile at him back when you barely knew each other, like he thought you must have made some mistake. Like he didn’t deserve it. 

But he’d gotten over that, grown into himself and his purpose. You hoped Lydia might be able to do the same.

You grabbed a damp cloth and a few bandaids and headed out to the porch. Michonne stood with Daryl and Connie, discussing the next move. 

“Where to next? Straight to Kingdom?” Michonne asked. 

You knew staying at Alexandria wouldn’t be an option, but your heart sank slightly anyway. 

“Well not straight, but yeah. Carol should know.” Daryl answered, washing blood from his arms in a bucket. 

You stopped in front of Connie, pointing to the first aid supplies and signing “okay?” She nodded, waving you towards Daryl. 

“Didn’ know ya could do that.” Daryl rumbled, looking between you and Connie. 

“Well I’m not very good at it,” You said, holding his chin and dabbing the cloth against the gashes on his face. “But there’s a fair amount of things you don’t know about me, Dixon. Have to keep the mystery alive somehow, right?” 

“Sure.” He scoffed, letting his hands rest on your waist. 

You dropped the cloth into the bucket, covering a few of the bigger cuts on Daryl’s face with gentle fingers. Brushing his hair away from his face, you smiled softly. 

“Do I want to see the other guy?” 

His grip tightened on your waist as he looked off into space for a moment, brows furrowed. “Nah, ya don’.”

Across the town garden, you saw scouts returning on horseback. Michonne noticed them too, leaving the porch to go talk to them. Connie wrote something down on her pad of paper, holding it up for you. 

“I’ll be inside.” 

“Alright.” Daryl nodded. 

You stepped out of his grasp for a moment, reaching out to stop Connie. She turned back, confused. 

“Thank you,” You signed, hoping your expression showed your sincerity. 

She smiled, quickly writing something else: “If I knew he was your husband, I would have gotten us here faster.” 

You laughed, making Connie smile as she turned and walked into the infirmary. 

“I like her,” You mused, letting Daryl pull you back into his arms. 

“Me too,” He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he kissed your forehead. 

You tilted your head up, kissing him gently. Daryl’s hand was warm against the small of your back as he returned the gesture. Your fingers threaded into his hair, drinking him in with relief and intensity. 

After a moment you pulled away, your hands resting on his shoulders. He dropped his forehead against yours for a moment, enjoying the contact as much as you were. 

“Lydia’s with us now, isn’t she?” You asked, although it wasn’t really a question. 

“Yeah,” Daryl pulled back, searching your face. “That alright?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded, “You trust her. That’s enough for me. Plus, she kinda reminds me of you.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” You smiled, fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a moment. “I’m going with you to Kingdom.” 

Daryl frowned, “Nah–” 

“Before you tell me I can’t, let me finish.” You interrupted, dropping your right hand to his chest, just above his heart. “I have some news that’s– it’s going to change some things.” 

You swallowed, nerves flaring in your stomach. Gathering your courage, you took a deep breath. Daryl watched you carefully, uncertainty written all over his face. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

You let the statement hang in the air for a moment, but he didn’t react immediately and the adrenaline of having finally told him pushed you to rush into the rest. 

“And if we’re going to do this, we can’t do it apart. Not anymore. Not if we have a kid. And I miss you...all the time.” You let out a breath, “So I’m going with you to Kingdom.” 

Daryl blinked rapidly, his gaze tracking over your face. His right hand rose to your cheek while the left reached hesitantly towards your stomach. 

“Y–yer pregnant?” 

“Yeah.” You guided his hand to just below your navel, smiling slightly at the wide-eyed wonder in his face. “We’re going to have a baby.” 

Daryl opened his mouth and then closed it again, completely speechless. 

“You alright—”

Before you could even finish the question, his lips were pressed to yours. Daryl held you tenderly, his thumb brushing along your stomach. When he pulled back, the awed and loving look on his face made tears well up in your eyes. 

“We’re having a baby.” 

~

The five of you headed out after sunset. Daryl was already late to returning Henry home safe for the trade fair, and with Lydia’s people out looking for her you didn’t want to risk making Alexandria a target. 

You shouldered your backpack, which was lighter than it needed to be. Daryl had immediately taken things out of it, redistributing the weight into his own bag. You’d tried to argue, but he just kissed you on the head and walked away before you could snatch anything back. 

Aaron walked with you to the gate, falling into step between you and Daryl as the others walked ahead. 

Aaron nudged Daryl’s arm, nodding towards Henry and Lydia. “Remember way back when I told you you’d make a great father? You got to skip the exploding diapers part, but I was right.” 

You turned to look at them as you reached the gate where Michonne waited for you, a smile spreading across your face. “You are right, but no he doesn’t.” 

Aaron looked confused for a moment before realization dawned on his face. Michonne’s eyes widened as well, looking between you and Daryl. 

“You’re–oh my God.” 

“Yeah.” 

She pulled you into her arms, hugging you tightly. Aaron clapped Daryl on the shoulder, wishing you both congratulations. Michonne pulled back, her hands on your shoulders as she looked at you with a conflicted expression. 

“You’re going to be a great mom.” She smiled sadly. “I wish...I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” 

“No, we have to go.” You said, shaking your head. “It’s the right call. For Gracie and RJ and Judith. For everyone.” 

Michonne looked past you and you turned to see Judith watching you all from several yards away. You’d said your goodbyes to her and RJ earlier, knowing saying goodbye now would only make you cry. 

Judith wanted you to stay, all of you. She wanted you all to face the Whisperers together. She thought you would win. There was a lot of her father in her. 

You’d promised her this wasn’t goodbye forever. And you believed it. 

“She’s mad at me.”

“It’s ‘cause she don’ know.” Daryl said, his hand brushing the scar on your back. The one that matched the one on his back. And the same one on Michonne’s. “Why don’ya tell her?” 

“She’s not ready. Neither am I.” Michonne argued. “She’s a kid. She gets to keep being one as long as I can help it.” 

You shook your head. “She’s not, though. Not anymore. She’s a lot more than that, Michonne.” 

Michonne held your gaze, nodding once before hugging you again. “Be safe.” 

“You too.” 

Daryl squeezed her shoulder and then moved for the gate, whistling for Dog to follow. You gave Judith one last wave, blowing her a kiss. She pretended to catch it, pressing her hand to her heart. 

You walked next to Daryl, hearing the gate creaking as they pulled it shut behind you. A lump formed in your throat, a sense of loss swirling within you as you walked away from the place you’d called home for so long. 

“Y’alright?” Daryl murmured, reaching for your hand. 

“Yeah,” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand three times. “I am.” 

“Good.” 

You turned your gaze forward again, catching Lydia quickly looking away from watching the two of you. You let it go, knowing it was best to let her come to you. 

And she did, but not until after dawn the next morning. 

You’d slowed down a bit as you readjusted the strap of your pack, falling to the back of the group. Lydia, arms crossed defensively over her chest, slowed until she was walking beside you. She glanced at you and then turned back to the forest ahead before glancing at you again. You could practically feel the words bubbling up inside her. But you waited, giving her time. 

“I didn’t ask him to do it,” She finally said, her voice barely above a mutter. “Fight Beta like that. I didn’t know–I wouldn’t have asked. He just did it.” 

“I know.” You said, giving her a gentle smile. “It’s what he does. It’s what we all do– we fight for what we care about.” 

Lydia looked ahead at Henry, rubbing her arms absently. He looked back at her, smiling sweetly when he caught her gaze. She looked away, cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment. You smiled to yourself. There was something pure and uplifting about young love. It gave you that precious sense of hope that was so easy to lose nowadays. 

The group stalled as you reached the main road, faced with an unexpected sight– Michonne and Judith in one of Alexandria’s wagons. 

Judith beamed at you. “Anyone going to Kingdom?”

~

Kingdom was alive and bustling, the fair in full swing. People mingled and talked, sold their goods at stalls, played makeshift carnival games, and ate at picnic tables. 

You were reminded of the time before, when you and Beth would spend an entire Saturday at the annual Fourth of July carnival or the autumn harvest festival. The energy of a community coming together in celebration was undeniably uplifting.

Even the leaders, despite the underlying worry about the Whisperers, seemed to be feeling the positive energy. After six years of division and silence, Alexandria, Hilltop, Kingdom, and Oceanside were finally united under a contract of mutual protection and cooperation. 

Lydia had been granted asylum within any community of her choosing, but her acceptance into your family also meant a commitment to fighting off her mother. The Whisperers only knew about Hilltop, and it was the most likely target for an attack. 

Groups of fighters from each community would set off to help defend it in just a few hours– Daryl included. 

He made it clear you weren’t leaving Kingdom until the situation with the Whisperers was finished, so clear, in fact, that he accidentally told the entire group gathered in the empty theater that you were pregnant. 

Anyone else in your position might have been glad for the excuse to stay behind, to keep out of danger. You  _ did  _ want to be careful for the baby, but you wanted to do more. You’d never liked being a burden, especially when you could help. You were a good fighter, and you wanted to help defend your family. 

“What’s up, mama?” Tara appeared at your side, bumping your shoulder with hers. “You look...thoughtful.” 

“It’s because I am,” You laughed. 

“Well? I’d offer a penny but I don’t really carry money anymore.” She teased. 

“Just...I feel like I should be going out with you guys. I want to help.” 

“You’re always helping.” Tara said, “You taught Enid everything she knows and look– she’s over there giving first aid lessons. That’s helping. You’re already keeping an eye on Lydia like she was the one growing in your stomach, so I don’t think she’ll be getting into any serious trouble anytime soon. Boom, helping. And if anything goes wrong here, you’ll totally hold down the fort. Maybe you staying here is going to be more help than you leaving. You never know.” 

“Tara...” You whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. 

She stared at you, panicked. “What? Oh my God, are you okay?” 

You nodded, pulling her into a tight hug. “I just missed you so much. And hormones...” 

“I missed you too.” Tara relaxed, hugging you back. “I want to stay and chat but…” 

“You have to get ready.” You nodded, pulling back and offering your fist. “Go get ‘em.” 

She grinned, bumping your fist with her own. “You know it.” 

You wandered the fair for a while, stopping to admire some craft stalls, watching Judith drop Eugene into the dunk tank on her first try, meeting Jerry’s adorable children for the first time, and smiling at the sight of Lydia and Henry sitting together at one of the picnic tables. 

You found Daryl by the front gate with his bike and Dog at his feet. 

“Hey,” Daryl rumbled, tugging you in for a quick kiss. 

“Hi,” You tucked yourself against his chest, grateful for his warmth as the hot afternoon turned towards the cool of evening. 

“Feelin’ alright?” Daryl murmured, his hand falling to your stomach. 

“Yeah,” You nodded, pulling back enough to kiss his cheek before looking out at the fair. “I was just thinking about how much Beth would have loved this.” 

Daryl tightened his arms around you as he murmured into your hair, “Rick would’ve too.” 

“They’d be proud.” You said, smiling sadly. “We finally got here.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl agreed, letting go of you as the others gathered by the gate to saw goodbye to their families– Carol hugged her husband and son, Michonne knelt down to speak to Judith. 

Dog looked up at him expectantly, but Daryl shook his head. “Yer stayin’ here.” 

“Have to look after me for a bit now, buddy.” You said, patting Dog’s head. 

“Nah,” The corner of Daryl’s mouth ticked upwards, “‘S’the other way ‘round.” 

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for one more kiss. Behind you, Tara wolf-whistled, making Daryl’s ears turn red as he pulled back. 

“Be safe.” You whispered. “Come back.” 

Daryl nodded, “I will.” 

He squeezed your hand three times before letting go. You stood back, keeping a hold on Dog’s collar as Daryl revved the engine of his bike and the others got up onto their horses. You watched as they moved out, the gate closing with the resounding thud behind them. 

“I hate the goodbye.” You said, mostly to yourself. 

“As do I, my dear.” Ezekiel put a hand on your shoulder, a bittersweet expression on his face. “But there remains a fair to be enjoyed.” 

You smiled, gesturing back towards the festivities. “After you, my liege.” 

Ezekiel followed your gesture, putting an arm around his son’s shoulders as they walked back towards the fair. You spared one more glance at the gate, hoping for the best despite the dread settling in the pit of your stomach.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discover who the Whisperers really are. And what they’re capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...this one’s going to hurt. I’m sorry in advance...

Before the world as you knew it came crashing down at your feet, one of your favorite things in life was going to the movies. You loved getting lost in a different world, being able to forget yourself and imagine new possibilities for a while. They always left you with a sense of inspiration or purpose or satisfaction. So when Ezekiel told you they’d be playing a movie after sundown, you were excited. 

Now, about ten minutes into the movie, you weren’t doing so well. 

The room was too hot, too packed with bodies and warmth. The air pressed in against you like thick padding. The movie screen flashed, something about the rapid changes in light making sharp pain prick behind your eyes. 

It was too much. 

You stood up, shuffling past Jerry and his kids and escaping down the aisle. Pushing open the front door of the theater, cool night air slipped over your skin. You began to feel better immediately, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. 

A rustle from off to your left caught your attention. Your eyes snapped open, goosebumps spreading across your arms. Your hand resting against the knife at your belt, you moved quietly towards the noise. 

An old school bus, retrofitted and remade into an easy get-away vehicle, was parked beside the theater. Lydia was slumped against the side, her face pale and her breath shaking. You let go of your knife, running to her. 

“Lydia, what happened–” You were about to touch her shoulders but you stopped yourself at the last second, remembering her aversion to physical contact. “Are you okay?” 

“I–” She blinked rapidly, eyes shining with tears. “My mother. She was–she was here.” 

Your heart began to pound. “Where did she go?”

“She–she left.” Lydia pointed towards the back wall, her hand trembling. 

“What does she look like?”

“She was wearing a–a green dress. And, um, blonde hair. But she doesn’t really–her head is shaved. And she’s...my height, I think, but she bends over.” 

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’m going after her. I won’t do anything, I just need to make sure she doesn’t hurt anyone, okay? Can you go tell King Ezekiel?” 

“I–yes.” Lydia swallowed thickly, getting herself together before nodding. “Be careful. She’s...just be careful.” 

“I will.” You smiled reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be back soon.” 

You ran in the direction Lydia had pointed, stopping once you reached the wall. Scanning the tall barrier, you spotted a line of metal pipes and studs stuck into the side as a makeshift ladder. You climbed it, carefully lowering yourself as far as you could before dropping to your feet on the other side. The landing was jarring, but not to the point of injury. Drawing your knife, you headed towards the forest. 

It didn’t take long for you to catch up with her. You wouldn’t have made it very far in the new world without learning how to move silently through the woods. And it didn’t hurt that you were married to the best hunter and tracker around. 

Once you caught sight of the green dress, you made sure to hang back, keeping several yards behind Alpha. As you followed her, you ducked behind trees as much as possible, trying to stay hidden among the shadows. 

You planned to keep on her tail until she reached her camp or a group of other Whisperers. You needed to make sure she wasn’t heading for Hilltop or Alexandria, and finding out where the Whisperers called home would certainly be a big help to defending yourselves against them. 

Alpha slowed as a couple of walkers emerged from the trees in front of her. They shuffled forward a few steps before standing still and straightening up as she continued towards them. 

Your eyes widened in surprise. They weren’t walkers at all, they were Whisperers. 

Alpha reached up to her head, pulling off her stolen blonde hair and dropping it to the ground. She leaned towards the others, speaking in tones too hushed for you to make out. Slowly, carefully, you inched closer. You put a hand against the trunk of a tree for stability, straining to hear what Alpha was saying. 

Before you could blink, you were grabbed from behind– a strong grip twisting your wrist until your knife fell into the leaves while a large hand covered your mouth and pulled you back against something hard. You screamed, struggling against the hold as you kicked and twisted and fought. 

“Quiet,” A deep, menacing voice growled in your ear. 

The hand on your wrist moved, pulling your arms behind your back as boots hit the back of your legs, sending you to your knees. Rope scraped against your skin as a length of cord was cinched around your wrists, binding you. 

“Get your hands off–” 

You cut yourself off as a face appeared in front of you, pale in the moonlight. Alpha’s shaved head tilted to the side as she studied you, her hand coming up to touch your cheek. 

“This one’s been followin’ me for a while.” She whispered, her voice accented and lilting. The sound of it set unease swirling in your stomach. 

“You were trespassing in our community.” 

“Oh, was I? No one seemed to notice.” She looked up at whoever had you in their grip, clearly done humoring you. “Cover her face, take her to the barn.” 

“You’re making a mistake, whatever you’re planning it’s not worth–” 

“Told you to be quiet.” The menacing voice returned, tugging something over your head. 

A mask came down, covering everything but your eyes and mouth. A horrible, acrid, rotting stench filled your nostrils. It was the smell of death. 

Bile and disgust rising in you, you bent forward, immediately vomiting at Alpha’s feet. She recoiled slightly before stepping around the mess and leaning down to look at you again. 

“This one’s sick. Killin’ her would be a mercy...” She mused, looking at you for a moment before tugging the mask off of you. “But I’ve changed my mind. Beta, gag her and take her to the others. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Yes, Alpha.” The deep voice replied, roughly shoving a strip of cloth into your mouth and tying it behind your head. 

As Alpha stalked away towards the other Whisperers again, Beta hauled you to your feet. He kept a hand tight around the back of your neck, pushing you forward. Knees aching and legs wobbling, you stumbled ahead of him through the forest until you reached a clearing. 

Whisperers stood in a circle, surrounding Carol, Michonne, Yumiko, and Daryl. Your friends stood back to back, weapons raised. 

“Drop your weapons,” Beta ordered, raising your knife to your throat. 

The look on Daryl’s face as he saw you nearly made your heart break. Anger and fear and uncertainty all passed in front of you as Daryl tightened his grip on his knives. 

“Don’ touch ‘er.” He rasped, his eyes burning with rage. 

You tried to catch his gaze, pleading with him to listen. 

Beta held you tighter, shaking you slightly with the force of his grip. The edge of the knife pressed harder against your throat. 

“Drop your weapons.” Beta growled. “I won’t ask again.” 

Daryl’s gaze cut to you, anguish and panic flashing behind his eyes. You barely nodded, trying not to provoke Beta any further. 

Daryl dropped his knives, and the others hesitantly followed suit. Once their weapons had been grabbed by the other Whisperers, Beta pushed you closer, stepping into the circle. He held you right in front of Daryl, your faces mere inches apart while the knife remained at your neck. 

“You just had to give me the girl. No one else had to die.” Beta rumbled, flexing his fingers against your spine. “But now that deal is over.” 

Daryl’s hands hovered in the air between you, practically vibrating with tension. He looked between you and Beta, jaw clenched. You closed your eyes, trying to prepare, trying somehow to find some kind of solace, when the knife moved away. 

Beta released his grip, leaving you to crumple against Daryl. He caught you, holding you up and keeping you against him. You shook violently, gasps muffled by the cloth in your mouth. 

“‘S’alright,” Daryl breathed, “I got ya.”

Beta shouldered his way back through the circle. “Tie the others up.” 

You cried out as you were pulled away from Daryl. He fought against the Whisperers, swearing and struggling. It took three of them to get his hands tied behind his back. 

They marched the five of you into a larger clearing, backing you all up against a tree. You were the only one gagged, but the others knew talking wasn’t a good idea. 

Still, Daryl shifted closer until he could twist enough to touch you. You held onto his fingers as best you could, letting the contact ground you and keep the fear at bay. The Whisperers murmured and shuffled around you, watching from beneath their rotting masks. 

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, Alpha emerged from the trees. Her green dress was gone, replaced by dark pants and a dark shirt. She carried a bloodied machete in hand as she lumbered towards you. Daryl let go of your hand, straightening up. 

“Y’ain’t gettin’ ‘er back.” He said. 

“You think this is about my daughter?” 

You  _ knew _ this was about her daughter. And now you understood why she’d told Beta to keep you quiet. She didn’t want you to mess up the show. 

“I ran into some trouble on the road,” She said, holstering the blade at her belt. “It was unavoidable. Do you like my new camp? My people like to keep moving, keep roaming.” 

“We’ve granted Lydia asylum.” Michonne spoke up. “Any attempt to take her by force will result in retaliation.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Michonne.” 

Alpha tilted her head, sucking on the inside of her cheek as she looked at Daryl again. “Does she speak for you?”

“We speak for each other.” He said. 

“My daughter isn’t a concern anymore. She was weak. She never lived up to expectations.” Alpha said, although she seemed to be addressing the other Whisperers more than your group. 

“‘Was?’” Daryl rasped, stiffening. “Th’hell s’that ‘sposed t’mean?” 

You wanted to touch him, to shake your head, to tell him that this was all just posturing. That Lydia was safe. But then Alpha pointed a sawed off shotgun at him and your heart nearly stopped. 

“To be clear, your group is in no position to threaten me. That is a habit that needs to be broken.” She nodded towards the forest behind you. “Come with me. Just you.” 

Daryl stepped out of your huddle, turning in the direction Alpha pointed. He met your gaze as he passed, his expression soft as he gave you a small nod. You forced yourself to stand still, your breathing ragged around the gag as tears slipped down your cheeks. 

Alpha and Daryl disappeared into the darkness. After a few minutes of more hushed murmurs, Beta’s growl was heard. 

“Take them.”

The other three women moved in an instant, surrounding you and shielding you from the Whisperers. 

“You don’t touch her.” Carol declared, staring straight in the face of any mask that came close. 

“We aren’t going to–just start walking.” One of the Whisperers scoffed, exasperated. 

Michonne glared at them suspiciously. You began to walk, but the others kept their tight formation, separating the Whisperers from you with their bodies. 

It only made the tears flow harder. 

You walked until dawn, stopping at the treeline as the sun rose above the horizon. A Whisperer cut the others free, the same one who’d told you to move waited impatiently as your friends parted just enough for them to cut the ropes around your hands. You pulled the gag from your face, taking in a gulp of air. 

“Wait here.” The Whisperer ordered. 

The others who’d escorted you dropped your weapons in a pile a few feet away before they all slunk back into the trees. 

“Wait for what?” Yumiko wondered, grabbing her bow from the pile. 

“I don’t know.” Michonne frowned, pulling her katana over her head. 

Carol shouldered Daryl’s crossbow, bringing your knife over with her own. She handed it to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“You okay?” She asked, checking you over. 

“She took him this way.” You said, turning and scanning the field surrounding you. “I have to–I need–” 

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Michonne grabbed your shoulders. “You need to rest. You’ve been on your feet too long.” 

“No.” You shook your head so hard it made you dizzy. “I’m fine. I just need to find him.” 

“I’ll go.” Carol said. 

“You won’t have to.” Yumiko spoke up, pointing down the hillside. “Look.” 

You spun to follow her gaze, making out your husband in the distance. Before Michonne or Carol could stop you, you were gone– stumbling and scrambling towards him. When he saw you, Daryl started to run, covering ground much faster than you were. 

He met you with an embrace, lifting you off your feet for a moment as he caught you. You curled against him, his leather vest balled into your fists as you held him tightly. Daryl set you on the ground. You looked him over frantically, fingers brushing his face and chest and arms. 

“Did she hurt you?”

He took your hands, stopping you with a soft and slightly perplexed expression.

“Don’ matter. What matters s’if yer alright.” He said, smoothing your hair away from your face. “Both o’ya.” 

“I’m okay.” You nodded, “We’re okay.” 

Daryl’s hands cradled your face, tilting your head back as he kissed you deeply. You gripped the front of his shirt, taking him in like the best medicine. 

“I was so scared.” You whispered. 

“I know,” Daryl smoothed his hands down your arms, “I know.” 

Grass rustled behind you as the others approached. Daryl let his hand fall to the small of your back, keeping you close as he faced your friends. Carol gave him a one-armed hug, handing him back his crossbow. Michonne squeezed his shoulder, and the five of you began the trek up the hill. 

“What happened?” Michonne asked. 

“She took me t’the ravine.” Daryl explained, “They have a herd down there. Can move it anywhere they want. Said if we don’ respect her borders, she’ll send it across ours.” 

“Borders?” 

“Th’interstates an’ th’river t’the South. Said we’d see th’Northern one on th’way out.” 

“She didn’t want anything? Supplies, people, nothing?” Carol asked. 

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head. “Didn’ even ask for Lydia.” 

“She came to Kingdom for her.” You said. “That’s why I left. She was inside, talking to Lydia. But she left. I followed her to see what she knew, if she was going to their camp.” 

“She was there?” Anger flashed across Carol’s face. “How didn’t anyone see her?” 

“I don’t like this…” Michonne muttered. 

No one was able to say anything else as the sound of muffled shouting reached you. Looking further up the hill, you saw a familiar figure gagged and tied to a tree. 

“Siddiq!” 

You all rushed to him, Michonne lowering his gag as you cut his ties. He coughed, stumbling to his feet. 

“What happened?” 

He pointed towards the ridgeline, almost in sight. “I–I–I–” 

You continued on, Michonne supporting Siddiq as you climbed towards the top of the hill. It was lined with sticks, something stuck to the top of each of them. As you stumbled closer, you realized what you were looking at, and your heart sank. 

They were heads. Mounted onto pikes. 

You didn’t recognize all of them, apart from knowing you’d seen them in passing, knowing they were Highwaymen, or members of Hilltop or Kingdom. Then you saw Enid and your stomach lurched with grief. 

You raised your hand to your mouth, a sob choking its way out of your throat. 

Because Tara was looking back at you. Only it wasn’t her anymore, with her eyes dead and her mouth open as she growled and rasped. 

And then you were looking away, rushing with Daryl towards Carol, to shield her from the final pike– from seeing her son’s face. 

But you were too late. 

She cried out, an anguished noise that resonated deep into your bones. One you’d heard from her once before, all those years back at the farm, watching the body of what was once her daughter as it fell. 

It was the sound of a mother’s grief. And it brought you to your knees. 

~

“I was supposed to die with them. I was ready to. Then, Alpha whispered in my ear: ‘tell them.’ Something hit me and everything went black. And when I woke up. I was alone. What happened was evil. It was evil. And I think she left me alive to tell you that story. To scare you and to drive us all apart again.” Siddiq shook his head, looking out over the assembled crowd, his eyes shining with tears. “But I want to tell you a different story.” 

You stood towards the back, hidden in the shade with Daryl. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his thumb brushing methodically over your hip. Lydia stood on your other side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

“See, before the end, Ozzy, Alec, and DJ found us.” Siddiq said. “They gave us an opening, and everyone fought back. They fought like hell. And what they did, was more than brave. ‘Cause they defended each other and they sacrificed for each other and some of them– they didn’t even know each other, but they still fought like they did. Like they were family. ‘Til the very end.

“And in the end, they– their time was cut short, but ours keeps going. So we have to keep going. For them and for all of us. We need to honor them. We need to honor them and we need to remember these friends, our family, died as heroes. That’s the story that I want to tell you. That’s the story that I want us all to remember.” 

You wiped away your tears, taking a shaking breath. Daryl’s grip tightened, silently comforting you. Lydia ducked her head, rushing away from the crowd. You and Daryl shared a look before heading after her. 

Lydia was pacing inside the theater lobby when you and Daryl caught up to her. She glanced at you, angrily swiping tears away from her face. 

“Hey,” You said softly. 

“It’s my fault.” She said, the words bursting out of her like they’d been pushing to escape for a long time. “All of this, all of them,  _ you _ , it’s all my fault.” 

Your chest constricted with sympathy and you longed to reach for her. But you kept your distance. 

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head. “It ain’t.” 

“You should have left me with them. You shouldn’t have listened to–” She broke off, choking on Henry’s name. Lydia curled in on herself, giving into the gut-wrenching sobs she’d been holding back since the beginning of Siddiq’s speech. 

You couldn’t help it. You moved closer, gently touching her shoulder. She stiffened, but didn’t push you away. Slowly, gently, you wrapped your arms around her. Lydia didn’t move at first, but after a moment she melted, letting her weight fall into you. Her shoulders shook and her hands curled into the material of your shirt. 

“It’s okay,” You murmured, meeting Daryl’s soft gaze over her head. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”


	6. Love and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This flashback chapter takes us back to the war with the Saviors, to the day that turned the tide of the war for everyone-- the night that you lost Carl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! An update on a Wednesday! I think I’m going to start posting all the flashbacks on Wednesday and the main plot on Sunday...anyway this one made me cry when I wrote it, so hold onto your hats.

All is fair in love and war. 

Except it isn’t. You remember learning where that idiom came from, in that hazy time  _ before  _ that you barely believe was real sometimes. The poet who first wrote the phrase actually said “the rules of fair play do not apply in love and war.” 

And he was right. 

Because  _ nothing _ about this is fair. Nothing. 

Nothing was fair about having to pull Aaron away from that tree where his husband,  _ your friend _ , had been breathing just moments before. Nothing was fair about watching Eric, who wasn’t Eric anymore, stumbling away to join the herd of the dead walking away from the wrecked outpost. 

But what came next was worse. So much worse. 

You and Daryl returned to Alexandria after the mess with the guns and the explosives and Rick. You were too sad to be angry with him for it. Part of you had wanted him to do it– to take the dynamite and end this war before things got worse. But you knew that was the anger. That was the grief. 

You knew you wouldn’t have been able to live with it afterwards– killing all the innocent people at the Sanctuary who’d just done what they thought would keep them alive. You knew you could have ended up there just as easily. Killing them wouldn’t make things better. 

No, only one person needed to die for this to end. Just one. 

You got off of Daryl’s bike without a word, preparing to go to the infirmary and take care of anyone who needed you. To push through and do your part, because your people needed you. 

“Hey,” Daryl caught your wrist, stopping you from walking away. 

You looked up at him, tired and sad. He pulled you against his chest, wrapping you in a warm embrace. You hugged him back, taking deep breaths against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scents of cigarettes and motor oil and pine. 

He kissed your forehead, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Imma make this right.” 

“I trust you.” You nodded, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Just be careful. Come back.” 

Daryl didn’t reply. He just kissed you again, his hands cradling your face. 

After a moment, you pulled back and took his hands in yours. “I love you.”

Looking at you with a tender, bittersweet expression, he squeezed your hands, once, twice, three times. And then you let him go and walked to the infirmary. 

He came back just before sundown. 

You were with Judith as the light faded, sitting on the steps of the brownstone. You were reading an old children’s book while Carl and Michonne talked a ways away. Daryl stopped at the foot of the steps, hands on the strap of his crossbow. 

You looked up at him. “Michonne told me what you wanted to do. Did the workers make it out?” 

“Had time to. Walkers’re inside now. ‘S done.” Daryl looked over towards the gates, chewing on his lip. “Rick ain’t back yet?” 

Judith yawned, resting her head in the crook of your neck. You rubbed her back gently, shifting so she could rest more comfortably against your chest. 

“No,” You said. “He won’t like what you did but Daryl all this...it had to end. You did the right thing.” 

Daryl shook his head, brow furrowed. “Ain’t ‘bout right and wrong with this. Jus’–”

A loud clanging echoed through the darkening streets– someone was banging on the front gate. Judith raised her head, a puzzled look on her face. 

“You may be wondering why the hell your lookouts didn’t sound the alarm,” An all-too familiar voice came through over a megaphone. “See, we are polite. I mean, I don’t know when they’re gonna wake up from that kind of shot, but they should wake up.” 

Eyes wide, you looked at Daryl and saw the same shock mirrored in his face. 

The Saviors had gotten out. They had gotten out, and now they were here. 

“So let’s just cut through the cowshit– you lose. It’s over.” Adrenaline kicking in at Negan’s declarations, you stood up and carried Judith down the steps towards Daryl. “So you’re gonna line up in front of your little houses, and you’re gonna work up some apologies. And then the person with the lamest one is gonna get killed. Then I kill Rick in front of everybody and we move on. You have three – count ‘em – three minutes to open up this gate and then we’re gonna bomb the shit out of you!” 

Daryl moved with you, the three of you running to meet Michonne and Carl. Outside, the Saviors began to whistle, sending a chorus of those bone-chilling two-tone notes over the walls. 

“We need to make it look like we’re escaping out back.” Carl instructed. “Get to the woods, halfway to the quarry, cut the lights. Get enough of a lead on them, hit them, and then get away on foot. You know where we’ll be.” 

“I have people in the infirmary.” You said. “They’ll need help getting out.”

“Tobin, Chuck, help her get them out.” Carl nodded to the others. “We’ll meet you down there.” 

You stopped long enough to meet Daryl’s eyes once more, exchanging a mutual look you both knew to mean  _ stay safe _ . And then you were holding Judith tight to your chest and running down the street. 

The evacuation plan was always the sewers. Get everyone down and out as fast as possible. When the community rebuilt after the herd, you’d even practiced an evacuation drill. 

So when everyone except the diversion team made it down before Negan’s countdown finished, you managed to feel a little bit of pride among the fear and adrenaline. 

There was even a small spark of hope when a stranger moved towards you out of the darkness in the tunnel, hands up in a gesture of peace. He was older than you, but still young, with dark skin and a beard and kind eyes. 

“My name is Siddiq,” He said, “Carl brought me here. I’m a doctor, I can help your people.” 

“Y/N.” You nodded to him, “I’m a doctor too. Here, can you check Evelyn’s bandages? I need to set up a treatment area with what I could salvage–”

The roof of the tunnel shuddered with the impact of an explosion aboveground, raining dust down on your heads. Worry swirling in your stomach again, you got to work trying to get everyone as comfortable as you could. 

You lost count of the explosions, each less shocking than the last. When Daryl and the others came through the tunnel towards you, no more than a few minutes could have passed, but it felt like hours since you’d parted on the street. 

Daryl embraced you quickly, the sweet sensation of reunion never fading no matter how long you’d been apart. Pulling back, you realized he was wearing his vest again. 

Several feet behind him, a newcomer slunk into the shadows– Dwight. He held a hand to his shoulder, nursing a gunshot wound. You regarded him warily, looking back at Daryl in a silent question. 

“Had to take ‘im with us. One of ‘em saw ‘im shooting his own ‘fore she got away.” 

You nodded, admiring Daryl’s mercy over the man who’d caused him so much pain. You stepped closer to Dwight, arms crossed. 

“I’m sure this has been expressed to you already, but I’m going to make it clear. You do anything and I mean  _ anything _ to hurt any of the people here, I will personally make sure you never have the chance to double-cross anyone ever again.” You stared him down for a moment before nodding towards Siddiq and the other patients, “Siddiq will fix up your arm.”

Dwight nodded, markedly avoiding eye contact before slinking off towards the new doctor. 

You turned back to find Daryl staring at you with a strange expression on his face, a sort of mix of surprise and something you couldn’t quite place but it made a shiver run down the length of your spine. 

Before you could ask him what was wrong, however, you caught sight of Carl stumbling towards you through the tunnel. 

He looked disoriented, dragging his feet and swaying as he walked. His skin was pale and clammy, sweat beading against his forehead. You recognized the symptoms of shock immediately, moving quickly over to him. 

“Hey kid,” You said, putting his arm over your shoulder as Daryl did the same on his other side and helping him to sit in a clear space against the wall. “You’re going into shock. I need you to breathe deeply for me, okay? Focus on my face and just think about breathing in and out slow and calm, alright? You’re gonna be okay.” 

“No,” Carl exhaled shallowly, “It’s not that.” 

Catching sight of her brother, Judith came toddling forward. Daryl crouched, putting a gentle hand on her little belly to stop her from getting too close while you tended to him. She latched onto the archer’s arm, watching you and Carl with wide, concerned eyes.

“You’re just a bit confused right now. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” You said, “Just breathe with me, okay? In...out. In–” 

With Carl’s hand on your own, he fumbled for the hem of his tee shirt with the other. You trailed off, a sudden sense of dread crowding your chest as he lifted the cloth to show a bandage on his stomach. 

“What–” 

“I got bit.” He admitted, voice hoarse. “When I was bringing Siddiq back, it just...it just happened.” 

“Carl…” All your breath left you in a rush. “No…are–are you sure? It could be–” 

“No,” A soft, half-hearted smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as Carl shook his head. “I know what it is. I can feel...I can feel the fever starting.” 

You felt like you were choking on your disbelief, sadness and dismay clogging your throat as tears welled up in your eyes. This shouldn’t be happening. Out of everything,  _ this  _ shouldn’t be happening. Out of  _ everyone _ , it shouldn’t be Carl. 

You shook your head, “No. Carl…” 

Just yesterday he had come into your home in the arms of his father, a chubby-cheeked little child. He had survived a gunshot wound and the death of this mother and then another gunshot wound. He was so strong and so smart and you’d seen him grow into himself and  _ this shouldn’t be happening. _

Judith whimpered, hiding her face in Daryl’s chest. 

The sound of her distress snapped you back into the present, putting you back in motion. You inhaled sharply, keeping the tears at bay as you fumbled in one of the medical bags you’d salvaged. 

“Here,” You shook a few pills into your palm and handed them to Carl, grabbing a bottle of water next, “This will lessen the pain...it’ll, um, it’ll make you comfortable.” 

You swallowed hard, biting back the shock and grief and anger.

“Thank you.” Carl nodded, taking the pills. 

Numbly, you sat down next to Daryl against the wall. He held Judith with one arm, the other reaching out to take your hand. You accepted the gesture, intertwining your fingers with his, although your gaze and thoughts had all turned inward. 

Everything in your lives had become about the war. About Negan. Everything was about  _ people _ again, and in all that chaos you’d managed to forget about the dead. They were always a danger. An ever-present enemy that you’d learned to manage, but you would never fully defeat. 

_ Nothing _ is fair in love and war. 

Shadows passed in front of your face and you looked up to find Rick and Michonne. Your chest tightened with a renewed wave of grief, knowing what was about to happen. They looked past you to the other side of the tunnel where Siddiq sat. 

“I brought him here.” Carl said, lowering the bandage and revealing the bloody bite mark on his side. “That’s how it happened.” 

Michonne dropped to her knees, a shuddering breath leaving her body. Rick blinked, eyes shining with shock in the dim lantern light. 

The walls rattled as another explosion blew aboveground, dust and rocks clattering down. 

“I...I don’t…” Rick whispered. “How–” 

“Dad, it’s alright. It’s how it’s gotta be. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it back before...But just in case, you know,” Carl pulled a small bundle of folded paper from his pocket. “I wanted to make sure I was able to say goodbye.” 

“No, it’s them. It’s them.” Rick said, jaw clenched. “They–they don’t–it wasn’t…” 

Tears ran down Michonne’s face as her shoulders shook. “Carl…” 

You could feel your own slipping down your cheeks now, unable to stop them any longer. Daryl’s hand tightened around yours. 

“I got bit.” Carl said, his voice soft and calm. “I was bringing someone back. His name’s Siddiq. We saw him at that gas station before...It wasn’t the Saviors. It just happened. I got bit.” 

“We should–” You spoke up, letting go of Daryl to wipe your face as you moved forward. “We should get him on a cot. It’ll be more comfortable.” 

Rick nodded, moving in a daze to help you bring the cot over. Together, you helped Rick and Michonne lift Carl onto the stretch of green fabric. Another explosion boomed overhead. You lifted Carl’s head as Michonne put a pillow beneath him. 

“Is that better?” She asked, smoothing his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. 

“Yeah…thanks.” 

“I, um, I got these.” Siddiq held out a pill bottle. “They’re over-the-counter nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories. He can take them with what Y/N gave him earlier. It should help a little. They did for my mom and dad. Please take them. Your son...he should have them.” 

Rick stared at the stranger, the blame clear in his face. 

“He’s a doctor.” You said, drawing Rick’s glassy gaze back to you. 

“A resident. Before.” Siddiq explained. “Yeah.” 

“Your name’s Siddiq?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you know he was a doctor?” Rick looked down at his son. “Is that why you brought him back?” 

“He wasn’t gonna make it alone.” Carl whispered. “He needed us. That’s why.” 

Rick nodded. “He was the one at the gas station.” 

An explosion blew right above your heads, raining dust straight down onto Carl. Rick moved to block it, but Carl was already coughing. You rushed to get him some water, handing the bottle to Rick. 

“Slowly, slowly,” Rick brought the bottle to Carl’s lips. 

Then Michonne was rushing down the corridor, grabbing Dwight and slamming him against the wall. 

“Make it stop.” She said, her voice ragged. “Make them stop.” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can. You’re one of them.” Michonne insisted. “They’ll listen to you. Please.  _ Please _ .” 

Rosita stood from where she’d been huddling against the wall with the others, placing a gentle hand on Michonne’s shoulder. She looked at Dwight. 

“You said Hilltop’s safe, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We need to get everybody there.” She turned back to Michonne. “We could get Carl there.” 

“And they think all of you got away in the woods.” Dwight argued. “They’re out there, looking.” 

Tara stood too. “They saw us go West. We won’t go West.” 

“Your best chance is to stay here until they’re gone.” 

“Nah,” Daryl rasped. “They find us here, we’re dead.”

Judith whimpered again, turning and reaching out for you. Daryl passed the child to you, squeezing your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance once he did so. 

“They’re almost done.” Dwight said. “They gotta be. It wasn’t about destroying the place. They don’t have the ammo for that. After they let up, after they’re gone,  _ that’s _ when we go.” 

“Okay.” Rosita relented. 

Judith buried her face in the crook of your neck. You brought your hand up to cradle the back of her head, gently smoothing her hair. 

“You’re sure Hilltop’s the best plan?” Dwight questioned. 

“You got a better one?” Rosita challenged. 

Dwight shook his head. “All of you together…”

“All of us together,” Daryl’s hand settled on the small of your back, “We’ll be their worst damn nightmare.” 

You turned away from the discussion, dropping your nose into Judith’s hair and inhaling the soft smell of baby she hadn’t quite outgrown. After she was born, when you would look after her once your lessons with Hershel were over, you would rest your head next to her tiny one and let the baby smell comfort you, letting it remind you of all the reasons left to hope. 

Daryl’s hand was warm against your back, his chest brushing your shoulder as he leant closer. 

“Y’alright?” 

“Gotta be.” 

He held your gaze, understanding passing between you in the unspoken way you’d been growing more and more accustomed to. But then you and Daryl had never really needed words. 

“Okay,” He pressed a kiss to your temple, sliding his hand around to squeeze your hip three times. 

You and Judith settled at the end of Carl’s cot as he spoke quietly to his parents and the explosions continued on and on above you until the booming aboveground began to slow. 

“Sounds like they’re letting up.” Said Scott. 

“Looks like you were right.” Rosita turned to Dwight. “They’re leaving.” 

“Maybe.” Daryl said, moving to squeeze your shoulder. “Imma go take a look.” 

He and a handful of others were up and back in just a few minutes. You and Rick stood in anticipation as Michonne came closer. 

“The Saviors are gone. We can get to Hilltop. We can get Carl there.” 

“Carl?” Rick shook his head. “No.” 

“We could find a car–” You began. 

“No, Carl won’t make–” Rick trailed off. “He can’t leave here. I have to stay with him.” 

Michonne set her jaw. “We’ll both stay.”

Rick turned to you, and you could feel your heart breaking as you looked at the loss in his face. 

“Will you take Judith? She needs to be there. If she...if– happens–” His voice broke. 

“I’ll take her.” You promised. 

“We’ll keep her safe.” Daryl echoed, stepping closer. 

“Let me say goodbye.” Carl managed, shifting on the stretcher. 

You crouched, setting Judith down as Michonne helped Carl sit up. His breath came out in a shaky rattle, but he smiled at her. Fresh tears began to fall, slipping over your cheeks and dripping onto the ground. 

“You be good, okay?” He said. “For Michonne. For Dad. You gotta honor him. Listen when he tells you stuff. You don’t have to always. Sometimes, kids got to show their parents the way.” 

He sighed, taking hold of his hat. “This was Dad’s before it was mine. It’s yours. I don’t know...just– Just having it, it always kept Dad with me. Made me feel as strong as him. It helped me. Maybe it’ll help you too. Before Mom died...she told me that I was going to beat this world. I didn’t. But you will. I know you will.” 

Judith began to cry, wailing as she turned back and buried her face against your chest. You took her in your arms, crying quietly with her. You stood, at a loss for words or actions that could come anywhere close to a proper goodbye. 

“These people.” Daryl rasped. “You saved ‘em all. S’all you, man.”

He nodded to Carl, and Carl nodded back. And then he was turned to go, and you were turning with him even though you felt like you were leaving part of yourself behind. 

“Y/N, wait.” Carl shifted through his stack of papers, selecting one of the folded notes and holding it out to you. “Here.” 

“Kid…” You breathed, taking it with shaking fingers. 

Carl smiled weakly. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to call me that anymore.” 

“I know,” You let out a gasping laugh through your tears. “Carl...I–I love you, kid. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I love you too.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word. ‘Goodbye’ sat heavy on your tongue, weighing it down. 

You swallowed it, moving forward just long enough to kiss the top of Carl’s head before you forced yourself to walk away. Keeping Judith tight against your chest you forced yourself to keep walking, not to look back until you were outside again. 

Even then, you didn’t look back. You just held Judith close and tried to hold yourself together for the long walk to Hilltop. The whole way, through the night, through the swamp, through Tara and Dwight and Daryl yelling at Tara so loud that Judith hid from him against your chest, through the last few miles up to the high wooden gates, you held it together. You stayed calm and strong and kept moving. 

You let go of Judith after she fell asleep against your shoulder, and even then it was only because Maggie had pried her from your arms, promising she’d be okay. In an exhausted, grief-addled daze, you let Daryl lead you into the big house and into an empty room where you could sit for a few minutes in peace. 

And read Carl’s letter. 

It wasn’t long. Just a page written in his slightly slanted scrawl, but it was enough to undo you. You felt the chasm, which had been steadily healing after losing Beth, tear open again. You cried until you could barely breathe, until you were a mess slumped against Daryl’s chest with nothing but the strength of his embrace to support you. 

Love and war be damned.  _ Life  _ doesn’t play by the rules.  _ Life _ brings death into the game and takes those who most deserve to win. 

~

_ “Y/N,  _

_ I don’t remember a lot from the farm. At least not the beginning, after the deer and getting shot. But I remember waking up once, in the middle, before I was better again. You were there. You were pressing a cool cloth to my forehead and you smiled at me and said ‘You’re going to be okay, Kid.’ I remember my stomach still hurt so bad and I was so scared, but I believed you.  _

_ That’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done. You take care of people. You see the value in saving a life, in giving people a second chance.  _

_ That’s what you have to do, Y/N. You have to save a life. You know it, too. I know you do. This is bigger than me or my dad or Negan or you. This is about what comes after. Because there has to be something after.  _

_ Carl”  _


	7. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Whisperer’s attack, you and Daryl decide to stay at Kingdom for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the angst in the last two chapters, you all deserve from emotional hurt/comfort and fluff. So that’s exactly what I’m going to give you! <3

You never wanted to be a leader. You never envied Rick or Maggie or Michonne. Your decisions, your responsibilities, your guilt and grief weighed heavily on your shoulders, but you didn’t have to carry the weight of a community on your shoulders with it. Watching your friends take on that duty, you understood its importance. The leader set the direction and called the shots. 

But you never realized how much they set the mood until now. 

When you’d first visited Kingdom, you were struck by its joy. Children played and laughed together, people greeted each other with smiles, the soldiers encouraged each other as they trained together. It was a stark contrast from the tension of Hilltop, the rundown anxiety in every face as they waited, on-edge for Gregory’s next terrible decision. It made sense, looking back, why everyone at Hilltop seemed more confident after Maggie took over. It was because she was confident, strong, and assured. 

Likewise, you realized the source of Kingdom’s joy was Ezekiel. His optimism and exuberance helped them feel safe. He helped them believe in hope. 

But now that hope had disappeared, morphing into grief. Carol and Ezekiel moved like ghosts, eyes glazed and gazes turned inward to their own memories and regrets. Their people looked on with trepidation, going about their business in quiet anxiety– for their leaders, for their futures, for themselves. 

The King and Queen had been brought to their knees, and their Kingdom went with them.

The decision to stay with them had been easy. It was the best option for everyone. Your friends needed support, and you needed to rest. Emotionally, you knew trying to push through the grief of losing your friends would only lead to more problems. Staying at Kingdom gave you the space to feel what you needed to feel before moving on.

Physically, the night in the woods had taken a toll. You were tired and bruised and Siddiq cautioned you and Daryl against the effects of trauma on your pregnancy. The earliest weeks were the most at-risk, and you needed to take your health and safety seriously. 

Once Daryl heard that, all discussion on whether you would go back to Alexandria with Michonne and Siddiq and the others was over. The two of you were staying at Kingdom until you’d recovered. Period. 

“Almost lost ya out there,” Daryl took your hand, his expression deadly serious. “Both o’ya. ‘M not lettin’ that happen again.” 

You squeezed his hand, a lump forming in your throat as you nodded in agreement. 

When it came to supporting Carol and Ezekiel, you focused on the small things. Bringing meals, tidying up while they were handling the big problems in the rest of the community, doing the little chores and necessities that would fall through the cracks. And you enjoyed the simplicity of the activities, the routine allowed you time to think and process and come to terms with both your loss and your future gain. 

Almost two weeks had passed since the fair when Lydia agreed to come with you. Every day you offered to bring her with you, and every day she declined. From what you could see, she spent most of her time training in the gazebo with a quarterstaff– spinning and striking and practicing from sunrise to sunset. 

Until one day. 

“I, um,” She stood in your doorway, arms crossed and gaze on the floor. “I want to go with you today.” 

“Okay.” You said, keeping your tone nonchalant. “We’ll head over in about ten minutes. That okay?” 

She seemed surprised at the question, eyes widening. “Y-yeah.” 

“Alright. Meet you out front in ten, then.” 

After Annette, Beth’s mother, was bitten and turned at the beginning, they left all of her things untouched. No one moved the clothes in from her closet or picked her books up from the shelf. When you lose someone like that, you want to hold onto what you can. You want to keep everything as it was because part of you doesn’t want to believe they’re gone. 

Ezekiel and Carol did the same with Henry’s room. They kept the door shut, but you wouldn’t have gone inside anyway. But as the two of you began washing the dishes in the kitchen, straightening up the living space, and making food to be added to the barely picked-at stack of food you’d made in days before, Lydia stared at that door. 

When she couldn’t go more than five minutes without looking at it, you gently dismissed her, saying you could handle making the rest of the meal on your own. Lydia seemed relieved, giving you a grateful look as she slipped out of the kitchen. You took your time cooking, wanting to give her some time alone before following. 

She’d left the door open behind her. You stopped in the doorway, watching quietly as she sat on his bed, just looking around at the room. 

“It’s stupid.” Lydia said after a moment, bitterness twisting her tone. “I shouldn’t–I didn’t even  _ know  _ him. Not really. He has a bunch of airplane models and books about flight. I didn’t know he liked that stuff. I don’t...I don’t know what his favorite color was. I didn’t know him but I–” 

She stopped abruptly, a sob swallowing the words. Lydia dropped her face into her hands, as if trying to hide from her sorrow. Empathy pulling at your chest, you crossed the threshold and sat gently down beside her on the bed. 

“It’s not stupid.” You said. “I don’t think logic has anything to do with love. Sometimes, you meet somebody and you feel it right away. Sometimes it takes a while for the love to grow and take the right shape. But it’s never stupid. It just...is.” 

“But I don’t want it. I don’t want to have this feeling.” 

“I know,” You said softly, “It feels like you’re left holding something that doesn’t belong to you. You keep carrying all the love you have for them, but you don’t know where to put it. And at the same time, it’s like there’s hole in your chest that just gets bigger. So you’re too full of love and getting emptier all at the same time. And it sucks.” 

“Yeah.” Lydia exhaled a small laugh, “It sucks.” 

“But,” You said, and she turned to look at you. “It gets easier. Eventually you’ll find somewhere to put all the love you have for them. You’ll find people who deserve to have it and who will give some of their own love back. And that hole will start to close up again. It never goes away, and you don’t want it to go away. You want to remember them. But you can’t let the remembering consume you.”

“Who was it?” 

You smiled sadly, vision blurring slightly. “My sister, Beth. She died trying to make things better, trying to do what was right. And that makes me proud. But it broke me. Without her I felt completely alone. I felt abandoned, left with all that love and nowhere to put it. Except that I wasn’t alone. My friends were still there, my family. Daryl was there.” 

You put your hand over hers, and she didn’t pull away. 

“I know it feels like it’s going to last forever. I know it hurts. And it’s going to keep hurting.” You said, “But I am here. Daryl is here. You are  _ not _ alone.” 

Lydia squeezed your hand, a few tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked at you. 

~

Morning sickness was not named correctly, you decided. The sudden bouts of nausea and dizziness were not limited to just the morning. They could be triggered at any time of day, by a particular smell or standing up too fast or sometimes nothing at all. Regardless of its name, you hated it. 

You took in a sharp breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you knelt in front of the toilet, waiting to see if this wave of sickness had finished. It hadn’t. 

As you heaved and threw up again, you heard shuffling behind you. Warm hands pulled your hair out of the way and gently rubbed your back. You coughed and spit, laughing slightly in embarrassment. You glanced at Daryl over your shoulder, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“I look super glamorous right now, I’m sure.” You said, any further comments cut off by a third wave of sickness. Daryl stayed right where he was, rubbing soothing circles over your spine. 

“I’ve seen worse.” He said. “Ya weren’t around for Merle’s binges. Those were like an atomic bomb o’puke.” 

“Ew.” You giggled, wrinkling your nose. 

“Yeah.” Daryl nodded. 

Feeling a bit better, you straightened up. Daryl’s hands moved to your shoulders, letting you settle back against his chest. You let your head tip back against his shoulder, eyes closed. Daryl’s palms settled softly against your stomach, his thumb sweeping back and forth over your belly. 

“Maybe I should stay.” He murmured. “Jerry an’ Dianne can find somebody else t’go.” 

Things were starting to fall apart in Kingdom. Not just emotionally anymore. The waterline had burst earlier in the week and Alexandria and Hilltop had sent what they could, but the fix would only last a little while. Daryl was set to leave for a few days with Jerry and Dianne, out looking for better repair supplies. You’d been moved to low-impact work– looking after the kids while their parents fixed the plumbing, filling in a few hours a day in the infirmary, doing pretty much anything that didn’t involve heavy manual labor or combat. 

“If you want to stay, stay. But don’t stay just to look after me.” You said, continuing quickly at the frown forming on his face. “Of course I love my big strong husband doting on me, but we both know that’s not how it works. I have work to do and we both know you’ll go crazy being stuck here. You’re the best person to go out with Jerry and Dianne.” 

“Y’think that about everythin’ I do, though.” 

“True enough, but I’m right. You’re the best man for the job because you’re the best man.” 

Daryl shook his head, ears tinted red at your words. “Jus’...don’t like leavin’ ya.” 

“I know. I don’t like it either,” You admitted, fitting your hands over his. “But we’ll make do until you come back.” 

Daryl was quiet, clearly unsatisfied. You shifted, turning to face him and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“We’ll be okay.” You said softly, looking him in the eye. “You and me  _ and _ the baby…”

“Last ones standing.” He rasped. 

“Last ones standing.” You repeated. 

Daryl’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling you close. He pressed his forehead to yours. 

“I love ya.”

“I love you, too.” 

~

You stood alone, surrounded by the noise and color and bustle of Kingdom’s trade fair. It was loud and hot and your head felt fuzzy and unfocused. You caught sight of a flash of green fabric and blonde hair, your heart jumping into your throat. 

Stumbling and pushing through the crowd, you followed her. Just as you caught up, she disappeared. You spun around, vision swimming until you saw her again– green fabric and blonde hair. You chased after her, out of Kingdom and into the forest, along train tracks and across paved streets. 

You lost sight of her as you climbed a hill, cold wind whipping around you and the grass crunching beneath your boots. The hill got steeper as you went, sloping upward and upward and upward until you were crawling on your hands and knees. 

She stood at the top of the hill, her back to you. You reached out, but just as your hand brushed her shoulder she turned around and  _ changed. _

Beth stared back at you, but it wasn’t Beth. She was dead and turned, growling at you from where her head was mounted on a pike. You stumbled backwards in shock, seeing a line of pikes stretching across the ridgeline. 

Beth, Carl, Rick, Tara, and then Michonne, Maggie, Lydia…

“No,” Your chest tightened as a vice grip of ice clenched around your heart. “No.”

Daryl’s dead-eye stare met yours from the end of the line, his skin pale and rotting, blue eyes faded to grey and sickly yellow. 

You tried to move, but your legs wouldn’t work. And when you tried to scream, no sound came out. And then you were falling, pitching backwards down the hillside into nothingness. 

You woke with a start, skin clammy and your legs twisted into the blankets. It took a moment for you to realize where you were, panic clouding your vision and making your heart race. You bent over, making your body as small as possible as you took in deep breath after deep breath. 

It was only a dream. It was just a nightmare. You’re okay. You’re okay. You are okay. 

Pulling the covers back, you got out of the empty bed and padded into the hallway to the bathroom. You splashed water on your face, hoping the cold would help bring you back into clarity. 

Your nightmares had been getting better. Early on, they’d only happen when you slept alone, when you were without the security of Daryl’s warmth wrapped around you. Lately you’d been able to keep them at bay even when you were in Alexandria and he was in his camp. They would only appear once in a while after a particularly long or stressful day. 

You took another deep breath, meeting your own gaze in the mirror.  _ You’re okay _ . 

A noise broke through the late-night quiet of the house. You straightened up, listening. It came again– it sounded like a muffled cry. 

You left the bathroom, moving quickly down the hall to Lydia’s room. The door creaked slightly as you opened it, sending a shaft of light from the hallway across her bed. She was asleep, but not still. Her body shifted, face twisted in a pained expression as she dreamed. 

“No,” She murmured, rolling to one side. 

You moved to the edge of her bed, calling her name. She didn’t wake up. Carefully, you grasped her shoulders, trying to keep her from hurting herself as she thrashed around. 

“Lydia,” You said louder, “You have to wake up, sweetheart. It’s just a dream.” 

“No, Mama, please–” She begged, eyes flying open. 

Lydia scrambled away from you, breathing rapidly as she frantically scanned the room. You held up your hands in a non-threatening gesture, keeping your tone soft and calm. 

“It’s me. It’s Y/N. You’re in your room in the Kingdom. You’re safe, Lydia. No one is going to hurt you.” You promised. 

Her breathing began to calm as she focused on you and the sound of your voice, coming back into reality. 

“It was just a nightmare. Just a dream. You’re okay.”

“It wasn’t me.” She said, “No one was hurting me. She– she was...it was Henry and–” 

Lydia took a shaking breath, eyes shining with tears. Your heart ached for her. You reached slowly forward and when she didn’t pull away, you took her hand. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just breathe.” You said, squeezing her hand. “Keep breathing, and I’m going to get you some water. Okay?” 

She nodded, consciously taking a long, slow breath. You patted her hand, getting up and filling a glass of water for her. When you came back, she took it from you with a quiet thanks, taking a sip. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” 

“No need to apologize,” You shook your head. “I was already awake.” 

“The baby?” 

“No,” You smiled softly. “I have nightmares too.” 

She seemed surprised, setting the now empty cup on her windowsill. “You do?” 

“Yeah. They used to be much worse, but I still have them from time to time. It helps when someone else is there.” You said, before pulling her blanket further up again. “Do you think you can try and sleep again? You should get your rest.” 

“You need it too.” Lydia said, frowning. “Daryl said to make sure you were resting enough.” 

You shook your head, chuckling. “Of course he did.”

“Do you...do you want to stay?” 

You smiled softly, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Lydia scooted over, making room for you. You moved further onto the bed, but stayed sitting up against the headboard. 

“Aren’t you going to try and sleep?” 

“I will,” You promised, “Just close your eyes, okay? And keep breathing.”

Lydia closed her eyes, but you could see the tension in her body as she lay there. You shifted so you were lying down next to her, squished close on her small mattress. Slowly and carefully, you brought your hand to her head. 

She stiffened and opened her eyes suspiciously as you first touched her hair. But she soon relaxed, closing her eyes again, as you slowly smoothed your fingers over it. You repeated the motion over and over again, gently soothing her until her breathing evened out and she fell asleep. Not too long after, you were asleep too. 

No more nightmares came for either of you until you woke to the early light of morning and the soft gaze of a newly arrived archer watching from the doorway.

~

“I swear to God, after all this kid is putting me through, they better have your eyes.” You grumbled, settling into bed after a nighttime bout of sickness. 

“My eyes?” Daryl sat down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his boots. “Why d’ya want ‘em t’have my eyes?” 

“Are you kidding?” Your head lolled to the side as you gave him an incredulous look. “Your eyes are gorgeous.” 

“Nah,” He scoffed, ears turning red as he pulled back the covers and joined you. “I like yours.” 

“Well that’s nice to hear,” You said, “But I still want them to have yours. Your eyes always remind me of the sky back in Georgia.” 

“Th’sky’s th’same here as it ‘s in Georgia.” 

“No it’s not.” You insisted, burying your face in the side of his neck. “Stop arguing with the mother of your child. It’s never a good idea to argue with a pregnant lady.” 

Daryl huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around you. “Alright.” 

You sighed, fiddling with the dark material of his shirt. “It would be nice if the baby has your eyes but as long as they come out healthy, I’ll be happy.” 

“Hadn’t really thought about havin’ my eyes or yer eyes.” Daryl said, hands slipping under your shirt to touch your stomach. “Hope the baby gets yer smile.” 

“Really?” 

“‘Course.” Daryl seemed offended by the question. “Yer smile’s what made me realize I loved ya.” 

Love crowded into your chest, a lump of emotion in your throat. Daryl’s fingers ran over your back, drawing little nonsensical patterns as he went on. 

“Always made me feel funny when ya smiled at me, but I didn’ know what’t was ‘til after everythin’ at Woodbury when Merle an’ me came back t’the prison. He started flirtin’ with ya an’ I was so mad at ‘im for’t. But ya just smiled at me like ya’d missed me or somethin’ an’ I dunno, I jus’ knew.”

“Daryl…” You pulled back staring at him in disbelief. “That long?” 

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah.” 

“I didn’t even know you liked me, like as a person, until after Terminus.” You said, holding his face in your hands. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Didn’ think anythin’ would ever happen with us.” He said. “Thought I’d jus’ love ya an’ that’d be it, I guess.” 

“And you were fine with that?” 

“Dunno ‘bout ‘fine,’ but...” 

“Holy hell am I glad I kissed you first.” You laughed, “If I hadn’t, you would have just sat there pining like a nineteenth century poet.” 

“Hey.” 

“It’s a compliment.” You said, biting your lip. 

Daryl looked at you like he didn’t believe you at all. So you kissed him, trying to convince him with all your love and affection. 

“If I’d’ve known how’d it’d turn out, I woulda kissed ya th’day I met ya.” 

“You so would not have.” You giggled. “Hershel would have shot you on sight. Hell, I would have shot you.” 

“Ya would’ve missed.” 

“You know what I mean!” Your indignance faded quickly at the smile on his face as he gazed at you. You touched his cheek, brushing his hair away from his face. “And for the record, if I knew it would take us here, I would have kissed you too.” 

“An’  _ then _ Hershel would’ve shot me.” 

You laughed, smiling contentedly at him. “Exactly.” 


	8. Decisions and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes us back to the end of the war and a handful of momentary choices that shaped the future in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won’t lie, even though he could seriously piss me off, I miss Rick 🥺

Decisions and consequences. Truly, life is nothing but a series of decisions and consequences– a progression of choices and their outcomes. Most of them are small, like choosing what shirt to wear or whether to go to bed early or who to sit with at lunch. But at one point or another, we are all faced with a big decision– one which will change the course of our lives. 

And sometimes that decision gets made by someone else, changing your life whether you like it or not. And those consequences, those are some of the most difficult to handle. 

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. 

You were walking up the hillside. You were all walking up the hillside together– Daryl, Rick, Maggie, Carol, Ezekiel and the forces from Kingdom, Jesus and the people from Hilltop. You were all going to end the war. To finish it, no matter what. 

You walked towards the front, in-step with Daryl and just a few paces behind Rick. As you passed through a line of sparse trees, a familiar, heart-sinking sound carried over the ridge ahead: a chorus of two-toned whistling. 

Everyone stopped short, raising your weapons and scanning your surroundings. Your medical bag thumped against your hip as you turned from side to side, seeing nothing but empty fields. 

“Well, damn, Rick,” Negan’s voice came through a speaker, “Look at that. Pegged again, pegged so very hard. It seems I’ve ambushed your ambush with an even bigger ambush.”

“How about you step out and face us!” Rick shouted. 

“Oh, I am everywhere Rick. Some more bullhorns, more walkies. Pick a direction to run, see how you do. Make it fun for all of us. Guess what else I did,” Negan said, “I brought you some of your old friends. You remember your old buddy Eugene? Well, he is the person that made today possible.” 

You glanced behind you, making eye contact with Rosita. She shook her head minutely, jaw clenched. 

“Same goes for Dwighty boy here.” Negan continued, “In case you’re wondering, he didn’t ream you on purpose. No, he is just a– a gutless nothing that sucks at life. And now he gets to stand up here and watch you all die, and he’s gonna live with that. And Gabriel, well…Gabriel, he’s gotta go too. We are cleaning house today, Rick.” 

Daryl caught your eye, his expression stony. Gun still raised towards the hill, he took a step closer to you. You could feel your heartbeat pounding, hearing the rush of your pulse in your ears. 

“And then there’s you.” Negan went on. “It didn’t have to be a fight. You just had to accept how things are. So, here we go. Congratulations, Rick. Three!” 

You scanned across the field frantically, still seeing nothing. Daryl moved even closer, pushing you behind him as he aimed his gun at the ridgeline. You reached forward and grabbed the edge of his vest, keeping yourself connected. If you were going to die, you were going to die together.

“Two!” Negan shouted, and a line of Saviors appeared across the length of the hilltop. “One!” 

The Saviors fired, but no one among your ranks fell. Instead, the Saviors all cried out as their guns backfired. They dropped them, clutching bleeding hands and limbs while others fell to the ground, 

You all stood for a beat in bewilderment, your brains catching up with what you had just seen. 

And then Rick bellowed “Now!” and you were charging the ridge. 

You ran, facing off against the Saviors left still standing. One knelt by his fallen comrade, pulling a knife from his fellow’s belt before heading your way. Before he could take another step, he was on the ground with a bullet in his hip and another in his shoulder. You set your foot down on his wrist as he grimaced and groaned in pain. 

“Drop the knife.” 

The blade hit the ground. 

“Just fucking do it.” He panted, staring down the barrel of your gun. “Do it.” 

Suddenly, you realized you knew him. He was the asshole who’d groped you in Alexandria. 

You leveled your gun with his forehead, remembering how disgusted, how violated he made you feel. How he’d talked and walked around your home like he could take anything he wanted. Your finger twitched on the trigger, wanting to pull it and end him. 

_ You have to save a life.  _ Carl’s voice echoed in your mind.  _ This is bigger than me or my dad or Negan or you. There has to be something after. _

“Don’t make me beg, bitch–” 

You flipped your gun, slamming the butt into his head instead. His head lolled to the side, unconscious. 

“Fine. I won’t.” 

You lifted your foot from his arm, turning and returning to the fray. Only, as you ran with the others up the hill, there didn’t seem to be much of a fray left. 

One of the Saviors, a woman with blonde hair, stood in front of the rest with her arms out. 

“Don’t shoot,” She said, getting to her knees. “We’re done. It’s over.” 

Steadily, one by one, the others followed suit. The Saviors knelt before you, unarmed, with their hands on their heads. You looked at your friends, finding Maggie and Michonne and Ezekiel just as uncertain as you felt. 

But the Saviors didn’t reach for hidden knives, they didn’t spring back up and run at you. They just sat there, waiting for you to make a move. 

“Stand with your hands on your heads and turn about,” Ezekiel commanded. “Slowly.”

Michonne nodded, keeping her gun trained on them. “Start walking up the hill. Anyone tries anything, you die.” 

The Saviors complied, and you all finished the trek up the hill. Once you reached the cars at the top of the ridge, the rest of your group joined you– Rosita and Jesus and Morgan and the rest, helping corral the newly surrendered enemy. 

“Negan,” Maggie said, almost to herself, continuing on towards the other side of the hill. 

Her eyes were wild, her steps almost stumbling. Your heart twisted, unease settling in your stomach. You followed her, noticing Daryl a few yards ahead as you crested the hill. 

On the other side, beneath a tree, stood Rick and Negan. Both bloodied and panting with exhaustion, they appeared to be talking. 

And then Rick’s arm flew up in a sudden arc, slashing Negan’s throat. The other man dropped to his knees, hand pressed to his neck as the red blood flowed over his fingers. He slumped to the side, falling onto the ground. 

Everyone, your friends and the Saviors alike, stood completely still along the ridgeline. You held your breath, feeling as if the world had come to a standstill as you watched Rick standing over Negan. 

This was it. This was what you’d been fighting for. What you’d been waiting for. The end of the Saviors, the end of Negan. 

But...it didn’t feel better. 

You didn’t feel a great weight lifting from your shoulders. You didn’t feel joy or vengeance or justice. You still felt grief and anger and frustration. Only now you were watching a man bleeding to death in the dirt. 

So when Rick turned around to look at you all, when he waved for you to come forward and said “save him,” you almost did it. 

But that man bleeding in the dirt wasn’t just a man. He was the man who’d killed Abraham. He was the man who’d killed Glenn. He was the man who’d kept the man you love in a cage and tortured him for a week. He was the man who’d broken you in ways you’d never been broken before. 

And you didn’t want to save him. But you weren’t going to stop him from being saved, either. 

Siddiq faltered slightly, looking at you as he moved towards the tree. You’d become a medical team of sorts since the battle at Hilltop, and in just a few days you’d grown accustomed to moving and working together as a pair. 

“Go,” You said, “But I’m staying here.” 

He set his jaw, nodding in understanding before running down to save Negan. 

“No!” Maggie shouted, Michonne grabbing her to keep her back. “No! He killed Glenn!” 

“We have to.” Rick said, pacing away from the tree as if in some kind of daze. 

“We have to end it!” Maggie yelled. “Rick! We have to make it right!” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, stomach twisting at the sound of her desperate cries. 

“It’s not over! It’s not over ‘till he’s dead! It’s not over ‘till he’s dead! No!” 

Feeling a presence behind you, you shifted to see Daryl at your shoulder. Wordlessly, you reached down and took his hand. He squeezed your hand tight, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“What happened, what we did...there’s gotta be something after.” Rick said. “The ones who have ‘em up, put your hands down. We’re all gonna go home now. Negan’s alive. But his way of doing things is over. Anyone who can’t live with that will pay the price, I promise you that. And any person here who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground, this world is yours by right. We are life!” 

“That’s death–” Rick pointed to the herd in the valley beyond. “And it’s coming for us. Unless we stand together! So go home. Then the work begins. The new world begins. All this...all this is just what was. There’s gotta be something after.” 

You squeezed Daryl’s hand back, watching grimly as Rick walked away. 

A decision had been made. A choice, by one man. And you knew you were all about to face the consequences, for better or for worse. 

~

You waited until nightfall before you went to see Negan. You waited until Rick and Michonne had left the medical trailer and gone back to the big house. You waited until you knew Siddiq would be too tired to be suspicious. 

“Hey,” You’d said softly when he opened the door, “You look like you could use a break. I can take over for a while.” 

“Rick didn’t want me to leave him…” Siddiq chewed on his lip. “But I could use a walk or at least a cup of coffee or something.” 

“I can handle it. Go take care of yourself.” Despite your ulterior motive, you meant it. 

He glanced back inside for a moment, and you could see the gears turning as he weighed the possibilities before nodding and stepping out of the door. “Okay. I’ll be back in five.” 

“Take your time!” You called, shutting and locking the trailer door behind you. 

Negan lay on one of the beds, his eyes closed. He had an IV in his arm and a bandage carefully placed over his throat. Siddiq had done as Rick said, and he’d done it well. 

You stood by the side of the bed, looking down at the man who’d caused such pain and suffering. He looked smaller, pale from blood loss, both wrists fastened tightly against the bed frame. 

Killing him would be easy. You could have just pulled your knife from your belt and finished what Rick started. You could have injected something into his IV, overdosing him in a way that would be barely traceable. 

You could have ended him in the blink of an eye. You were thinking about it, your fingers tracing the hilt of your knife, your eyes scanning the medicine cabinet against the wall. 

“You gonna do it, sweetheart?” 

Negan’s voice was rough, like he’d taken a big bite of sandpaper. His lips were quirked up in a signature smirk as he looked up at you. 

“What is it with you people and telling me to kill you?” 

His smile grew. “Well, are you gonna fucking do it or not?” 

“First of all, shut up.” You reached forward and pressed down on the bandage at his neck, making him hiss in pain. “Take it from a doctor, if you ever want to perform your monologues again, you’ll stop talking until this heals. Got it?” 

Negan grimaced, but said nothing. You pulled back, crossing your arms. 

“Look, I was thinking about it. Killing you. I’ve been thinking about it since I met you, just like a lot of people around here.” You said. “But I’m not going to. See, you don’t  _ get  _ to die, Negan. But you don’t get to live either. No, you get to exist in a cell where you can rot for the next however many years you have left. Because you took away the chance for  _ good _ people to live. And for that, you have to pay.” 

You took a breath. “But know if you put one toe out of line–” 

“You’ll kill me?” 

“No.” Channeling a little bit of Negan yourself, you let a smile slowly spread across your face. “No, I’m going to line up every single person you’ve hurt– Daryl, Maggie, everyone from Alexandria, everyone from Oceanside, the list goes on. And when we’re done with you, you’ll be begging for me to kill you. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be merciful enough to do it.” 

Negan stared at you, his jaw set in resignation. 

Outside, someone tried to open the door. They pounded their fist against the metal. 

“Y/N!” You recognized Rick’s angry shout. “Open the door–” 

You swung the metal open before he could finish, barely stepping out of the way before he was barreling inside. Siddiq stood outside, giving you a half-guilty, half-apologetic look. 

Rick stopped short, looking between you and where Negan lay, unharmed and very much still alive. Rick eyed you carefully, his hands settling on his hips. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“We were just talking.” 

“With the door locked?” Rick raised an eyebrow. 

“I wanted some privacy.” You shrugged, heading for the door. “We’re done anyway.” 

You didn’t stop to explain anything further to either of them, walking up the gravel path to the big house without another word. 

When you got to your room, Daryl was there. He was sitting in the window, fiddling with his crossbow. He looked up at the sound of the door, expression softening as he saw you. 

“Hey,” You said, coming to join him. 

“Hey.” He rasped. 

Daryl set the bow aside so you could settle back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, the two of you sitting in silence for a while as you looked out across the Hilltop. 

“I went to see Negan.” You admitted softly. 

Daryl stiffened slightly, but waited for you to go on. 

“I almost killed him. I wanted to, but...I don’t think it’s right. Not now.” You said, looking down at his hands, studying the tattoo on the back of his right hand. “Rick shouldn’t have made that call. It wasn’t his to make but he did and now we have to deal with it.” 

“Killin’im now would put us back where we were.” 

You nodded, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. “There has to be something after. I just hope we don’t end up where we were anyway. I hope this works.” 

“I didn’ kill Dwight.” 

You turned your head to look at him. Daryl stared out the window, his profile stark against the window as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

“Jus’ let ‘im go. Told ‘im not t’come back again.” 

You tilted your head, softly kissing the side of Daryl’s jaw. “You’re a good man, Daryl Dixon.” 

“Ain’t no such thing anymore.” 

“No.” You sat up, gently grabbing his chin and making him look at you. “ _ You are _ . The best one I know.” 

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but felt the love behind your words all the same. As if unable to express a response in words, he brought a calloused hand to the side of your face, cradling it for a moment as he stared at you. And then he kissed you, soft and slow. 

You melted against him, shifting so you were facing him. Your hands gripped the front of his vest as you kissed him back. 

If life is nothing but a series of decisions and consequences, then choosing Daryl Dixon was the best decision you’d ever made.


	9. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingdom has fallen, not to enemies or walkers, but to time. You’ve helped the population pack up their lives and the caravan sets off for Hilltop-- just in time for a massive snowstorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my favorites, though I can’t quite explain why. It just kinda is

You could feel the snow in the air. It wasn’t falling yet, but you knew it would be coming soon. Since the caravan had left the Kingdom gates, the temperature had been dropping steadily.

In the last few weeks, things had fallen apart quickly. What began as small problems here and there, just part of the routine of survival, became crises that just wouldn’t stop. You admired Ezekiel and Carol for the monumental decision they’d made– to leave the Kingdom behind. Their people would be welcomed in Alexandria and Oceanside and Hilltop in particular. That was where Ezekiel and Carol’s leadership was most needed. 

You walked along the right side of the road, between Daryl and Lydia, as the caravan kept a steady but relatively slow pace. You looked up at the pale grey sky, your face fresh with the cold. When you were a kid, you loved the snow. The first year you’d moved down to Georgia, you’d cried when you never even saw the white flakes falling at all. 

Now, the snow felt like a bad omen. Like the universe thought you didn’t have enough to struggle with, so it decided to send something to stir things up some more. You could only hope the caravan could make it to the nearest waystation before the storm hit. 

Pulling your coat tighter around your body, you let out a breath. You watched as it crystallized in the air, floating away from you. 

“Y’alright?” Daryl murmured, leaning towards you and putting his hand on the small of your back. Even in the freezing cold, you could still feel his warmth. 

“I’m good.” You said, offering him a smile. 

He studied you carefully. “Ya look cold. ‘S warmer on th’wagon. I can–” 

“Daryl,” You touched his arm, squeezing gently through his poncho. “Seriously, I’m okay. The walking is good.” 

His brow furrowed, gaze slipping towards your stomach and then back to your face. “Ya sure?” 

“I’ll tell you if I need a break.” 

“Alright.” He relented, but kept his hand on your back. 

Along the other side of the road, the horses began to whinny, growing skittish. Your hand fell to your knife as Daryl reached for his crossbow. A scattered line of walkers shuffled along the field beside the road, at least a thousand feet away from the caravan. You let your hand relax, but you stayed alert. 

“Is that them?” Alden rode up beside you, looking at Lydia. “People watching us now, huh? We followed their rules, haven’t they done enough to us?” 

“Hey,” Daryl called out to him, but you were already putting yourself between Alden and Lydia, anger simmering within you. 

“You don’t talk to her like that.” You said, tone as sharp as your glare. “She is one of us, and she deserves your goddamn respect. I know what you lost, I know what you’re feeling, but  _ she  _ wasn’t responsible. Grief is no excuse for acting like an asshole.” 

Alden, startled by the force of your words, had the decency to look ashamed. He said nothing else, gave no apology, but he kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the road. You returned to your spot, fuming. 

Lydia’s cheeks were pink, whether from the cold or embarrassment, you weren’t sure. Maybe both. She kept her arms crossed and her gaze on the ground in front of her. 

“You don’t have to protect me.” She said quietly, “I know how they feel about me.” 

“Don’ mean they get t’talk t’ya like that.” Daryl grumbled. 

“Just...I don’t want to cause any more problems.” Lydia said, glancing at the two of you. 

“‘S their problem, not yours.” Daryl said. 

“This isn’t your fault, Lydia.” You said. “I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it.” 

She was quiet, her jaw set tightly and her shoulders tense. 

Some time later, it began to snow. Not heavily, but enough to leave everything dusted in a thin layer of white. More walkers emerged, this time from the woods on the right side of the road, much closer. You were on the left, walking a few feet behind Lydia, keeping a concerned eye on her while Daryl and Carol talked. 

At the sight of the walkers, the caravan came to a halt, everyone sprang into action. Daryl and Carol each raised their bows. Your hand had barely touched your knife when your vision was blocked. Michonne, Magna, and Yumiko all surrounded you in a protective circle. 

You heard each arrow hit their target, the walkers hitting the snowy ground with a crunch. 

“Keep going,” Ezekiel called, “We’ll catch up.” 

Satisfied that the threat had passed, the other three women dispersed. 

You shot Michonne a look. “Have you run drills for that or something?” 

She shrugged, smiling knowingly. “Just following orders.” 

You looked over to where Daryl was standing beside Ezekiel, retrieving the arrows. He looked at you, nodding slightly to himself as if confirming a job well done. The caravan rolled forward and you walked on, smiling. 

Your smile faltered, however, when you realized Lydia was gone. You stopped short, scanning the people ahead and behind and as they passed, finding no sign of her. Looking out into the woods beside the road, you caught sight of footprints winding out into the snow. 

You knew it was a bad idea. After the night during the Fair, you’d promised yourself (and Daryl) that you wouldn’t do this again. That you wouldn’t risk the life of your unborn child on anything else. 

But Lydia, though she hadn’t been born by you, was also yours. And you needed to protect her. 

You set off into the trees. 

It took a few minutes to track her. You caught up to her just beyond a frozen pond, stopping short as you saw her. 

Lydia knelt on the ice, looking down at a walker, submerged in the ice up to its shoulders. It growled and snarled, jaws snapping hungrily. Her glove was off and she slowly leaned towards the walker, holding her arm toward its mouth. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you forced yourself to keep calm, not to startle her and accidentally frighten her into doing something horrible. You stepped down with more weight, letting the ground crackle beneath your boot. She looked up at you, tears shining in her eyes. 

“Lydia,” You called softly, hands raised as you took a slow step towards her. “It’s okay.” 

She began to shake, her lower lip trembling. She didn’t move closer to the walker, but she didn’t move away. You took another step, and then another, just a foot away now. 

“Stay still, Lydia. Stay right there for me, okay? It’s going to be okay.” 

Tears slipped down her face. She stared at you, frozen in sorrow and desperation and fear as you crouched beside her. Carefully, you drew your knife and plunged it into the walker’s skull. You slid the blade back into its sheath and then slowly wrapped your arms around her. You pulled her away from the ice. 

Once you were back on solid, snowy ground again, Lydia collapsed against you. She took in ragged breaths, crying against your shoulder. You held her close, hands trembling as they rubbed up and down her back. 

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” You murmured, “You’re alright. Can you walk?” 

She took several breaths, wiping away her tears. Lydia nodded, pulling her glove back on. You stood, offering her your hand. 

“Come on then. I heard a rumor that there will be hot chocolate at the way station.” 

Lydia took your hand, letting you pull her to her feet. She held on the whole way back to the road, only letting go when you caught sight of the caravan again. Daryl was at your side the instant your feet hit the snow covered pavement, expression frantic. 

“Th’hell happened?” His hands skated your shoulders, brushing your face and setting on your waist, like he was taking inventory. “Ya disappeared an’ I couldn’ find ya. Th’hell happened t’not runnin’ off–” 

“It’s my fault.” Lydia spoke up, looking like she wanted to throw up. “I–” 

“She was with me.” You interrupted, noticing the not-so-subtle glances from the others standing nearby. Lydia’s business didn’t need to be shared with everyone. “I had to pee and she didn’t want me to go alone. You know...pregnant lady and all that.” 

Daryl studied your face, clearly not believing a word you’d just said. Before he could challenge you, you grasped his collar and pulled him closer. 

“I’ll explain later.” You whispered, before pulling back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, but we’re all okay.” 

Daryl was quiet for a moment, his fingers flexing against your waist. Finally, the anger in his expression melted, giving way to relief. He leaned forward and kissed your temple. 

“Alright.” He muttered, meeting your gaze and then sending the same look to Lydia. “Jus’  _ never _ do that again.” 

“We won’t.” She said, glancing at you. “I promise.” 

~

The caravan couldn’t make it to the waystation in time. You moved off-course, sheltering in a place you thought you’d never visit again– the Sanctuary. 

You’d never seen it in its full “glory,” but even in the discontent of the transition after the war, it had been a functioning community. Now it was a hollow, empty shell. But it had walls, and that would have to do. 

You were helping bring wood around to the few campfires around the warehouse when Daryl came by and gently pulled you away. 

“How’re ya feelin’?” He asked, reaching up to pull your hat more securely over your head.

“I’m okay. Tired, but having a bit of a rest here will help.” 

He nodded, letting his fingers brush over your cheek. “What happened out there?” 

“Lydia ran away.” You said, careful to keep your voice low. “When I found her, she was trying to let a walker bite her.” 

His eyes widened, head turning to find her where she stood at the edge of the firelight, her arms crossed and her head down. He moved to go to her, but you grabbed his arm. 

“It’s not the time to talk about it. There’s too many people around and too much happening. You need to keep your focus. And I’ll keep an eye on her.” You said. “I think we should talk about it when we’re home again.”

Daryl looked at Lydia and then back at you, letting out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, touching his face, “I know I scared you.” 

“Jus’...I know you can handle yerself. I know that. But I can’t lose ya. Either o’ya.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I can’t.” 

“And I can’t lose you. And I want this baby. I want to keep the baby safe. But...Lydia is part of this now. Part of  _ us _ now. And I can’t lose her either.” 

“I know.” Daryl pulled you into his arms, speaking softly against your ear, “but it ain’t jus’ you who can keep ‘er safe. It can’t be jus’ you.” 

“Daryl.” Michonne called his name from across the room. 

“I gotta…”

“Go.” You kissed his cheek, pulling back. “Lydia and I will be here when you get back.” 

“Sit down for a while, alright?” He said, squeezing your hand. “Rest.” 

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, giving him a smile. 

Daryl lingered for a moment, taking one more moment to look at you before heading over to talk with Michonne. 

You walked over towards Lydia, sitting down on an old crate by the fire. She watched you from the shadows, trepidation clear in her face. You patted the empty crate next to you, tilting your head in invitation. Lydia shuffled over and sat down, arms still crossed tightly over her chest. 

“Is he mad?” She asked, staring into the flames. 

“No.” 

“Are you?”

“Of course not.” You said, “If I hadn’t been there and things had gone differently, I would have been furious.” 

Lydia glanced at you, guilt shining in her eyes. 

“But now is not the time for that conversation.” You said. She nodded, looking solemnly down at her hands. 

You scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. You rubbed your palm up and down her arm, partly to keep her warm and partly to comfort her. After a few minutes, Lydia let her head rest against your shoulder. You let yours rest on top of hers, closing your eyes for a while.

~

The storm had turned into a full-on blizzard. Wind howled, passing the snow so fast in front of you, you could barely see past your own nose. You felt Daryl’s hand on your arm, holding you steady as you teetered through the growing snowbanks, keeping you close, keeping you safe. 

The caravan was continuing on foot, diverting off-course. The roads would take too long and after tonight, might be impassable for weeks. The only two options available were either stay at the Sanctuary indefinitely, or risk crossing Alpha’s borders to get home over the frozen river. And you didn’t have enough food and supplies for more than two days. 

So you’d left the wagons and horses behind and struck out into the night. 

In the disorienting white whirlwind of the storm, you didn’t recognize the hillside until you’d reached the top. The now bare pikes stood out against the silvery night, stark black and menacing. Most continued through without a second glance, too focused on moving forward to notice the border marking. 

But you slowed, a familiar sense of panic seizing your chest as you drew closer and closer. Daryl’s hand tightened on your arm, squeezing three times. 

“Gotta move on.” He said. 

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. You continued forward, careful to keep Lydia in sight as she walked a few feet in front of you. 

After another mile, your group reached the river bank. 

“There it is,” Ezekiel called, relief in his tone. “We made it.” 

“‘M gonna check the ice.” Daryl said, letting go of you. 

“I’m right behind you,” Michonne said, following after him.

“Be careful.” You said, hugging your arms to your chest. 

You watched, anxiety pooling in your stomach as they maneuvered down to the edge, Daryl stepping down onto the ice. He pressed with his foot, nodding and saying something to Michonne that was lost in the wind. 

“We have to assume they have eyes on the borders.” Ezekiel said, drawing your attention back to the group. “Make sure the others are ready to go.” 

“Done and done.” Jerry said, heading back into the crowd. 

With a flare of panic, you realized Lydia was gone again, slipping out of sight as you’d watched Daryl and Michonne. You peered through the snow and the people, trying to find her. 

“Where’s Lydia?” You asked, starting towards the edge of the path. 

“You stay.” Carol caught your arm, stopping you. “I’ll go look for her. I’ll be right back.” 

“Carol–” 

“I’ll find her.” She said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Stay here.” 

You didn’t try to fight her any further, watching with a clenched jaw as she headed off into the storm. You turned back towards the river, towards Daryl, when you noticed movement by his feet. A walker, buried in the snowdrift, unearthed itself, reaching towards him. 

“Daryl!” You shouted, heart jumping into your throat. 

He noticed it with a start, shuffling back a few steps before pivoting and stabbing it with one of his knives. Your relief was short-lived, however, as more of them began to emerge all around you, coming out of the snow at your feet. 

“Move!” Michonne shouted. 

The group erupted into frantic murmurs, people lurching towards the ice while others froze in panic and the rest began to fight the walkers off. You drew your knife, moving quickly to kill a walker that had just pulled a woman to the ground. You stopped to help her up, holding her hand and guiding her towards the ice. 

Ezekiel and Aaron stood by the edge of the river, helping people across. 

“Nice and easy now,” Ezekiel said, helping the elderly and the children and anyone else he could. 

“Not too many at once, we don’t want to break the ice!” Aaron warned. 

“Keep moving, one at a time.” 

More walkers, actually walking this time, began shuffling towards you from out of the storm. 

“Daryl, incoming.” Magna warned. 

Daryl, who’d scrambled back up the river bank to you, turned right back around to face the walkers. 

“Is it them?” Alden called. 

“No.” Michonne said, cutting down a walker of her own. “Not here. Not in this.” 

Daryl backed up so his body was shielding you as he leveled his crossbow and shot two of them down easily. He turned back around quickly, taking your arm and helping you to Aaron. 

“Get ‘er across. Now.” 

You shook your head. “But Lydia’s not back–” 

“ _ Now _ .” Daryl practically growled, protectiveness flaring in his eyes. 

“Come on,” Aaron said, taking your hand. 

Daryl disappeared into the storm, heading after Carol and Lydia. Cursing under your breath, you relented, treading carefully along the ice. Ezekiel stood halfway across, taking both your hands and helping you towards the other side. On the other end, Nabila met you, pulling you up onto the snow bank. 

Immediately, you turned back to watch the other side, waiting anxiously for the rest of your family. It was only a few minutes at most, but it felt like an eternity. More and more people crowded onto your side of the river, the numbers thinning on the other bank. Still, no sign of Carol, Lydia, or Daryl. You were beginning to consider sliding and scrambling your way back over when you saw the tell-tale silhouette of your husband, followed by two others. 

You were at the very edge of the bank as they crossed, taking Lydia’s hand and pulling her into a hug the moment she was off the ice. When you pulled back you could see tear tracks on her cheeks. 

Daryl appeared behind her, his expression serious. You reached for him next, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” 

“She did ’t again.” He said, just loud enough for you to hear. 

When he pulled away, you held his gaze, mirroring the solemnity in his expression. When the caravan continued forward once more, you each walked on either side of her and didn’t move away until you finally arrived at Hilltop. 

That conversation was going to have to happen, and happen soon. 

~

Only a small group moved on from Hilltop to Alexandria– Michonne, Aaron, Daryl, Lydia, you, and at the last minute, Carol. 

Home wasn’t a place anymore. Life wasn’t certain enough for that. But home was people, and when you walked through those gates with Daryl and Lydia and the others and Judith and RJ were waiting to greet you, it felt like coming home. 

Judith hugged her mother and then ran to you, wrapping her arms around you for the first time in over a month. 

“Hey, Bug,” You said, holding her close. 

“I knew you’d come back.” 

You smiled as you pulled back, brushing her slightly frost-bitten cheeks with your thumb. “I missed you too much to stay away.” 

Within minutes, the greeting party turned into a snowball fight. When you remembered it later on, Daryl always insisted that RJ had started it, but you’d seen Daryl throw the first snowball. After so many hours of stress and uncertainty, you were all happy to unwind for a little while. 

You managed to get out almost unscathed, as Daryl acted as your human shield. He’d block everything with his arms outstretched, completely hiding you with his poncho while you made snowballs and peeked over his shoulder long enough to lob them at whoever was closest. 

Even Lydia joined in eventually. She’d been standing off to the side, arms crossed defensively, when you’d pelted her. She looked shocked at first, but when you’d simply shrugged and began packing another snowball, a small smile spread across her face. 

Soon enough, she was laughing and playing with the rest of you. 

Her smile was bright and beautiful, and it gave you hope that things could get better for her. That eventually, beyond this moment, she would flourish. And you wanted to do your best to help her get there. 

But you weren’t the only one. 

Back in Alexandria again, finally safe within the walls of your house, the exhaustion of your journey caught up with you. You’d been holding it together, pushing forward, staying strong, but your energy wasn’t just your own anymore. And goddamn, you were tired. 

“Is Lydia in her room?” You asked Daryl, pulling on a clean change of clothes after a delightfully hot shower. 

“Think so.” Daryl nodded, watching you carefully. 

“Do you think we should talk to her together? I don’t think we should wait…” You wondered, thinking back to the farm when Hershel had waited for Beth to snap out of it and how it had almost been too late. 

“Nah, we shouldn’.” Daryl agreed, “But y’should get in bed.” 

“But–” 

“Ya need t’rest.” He guided you to the bed, pulling back the covers. 

You got in, worry still knotted in your stomach. 

“Ya done a lot for ‘er already. An’ you an’ me both know yer gonna do more.” Daryl smiled softly, thumb rubbing gently against your arm. “Lemme take care of this.” 

You let out a breath, your body already relaxing into the bed. “Okay.”

“Sleep well,” Daryl murmured, kissing you gently before turning off the light padding out of the room. 

You drifted off quickly, but you didn’t sleep long. Only an hour, maybe two passed peacefully before your mind turned on you. Images of the storm, of Lydia’s arm clamped in the teeth of a walker, of Daryl falling through the ice into the dark river, of yourself lost and alone as the blizzard raged all around you, took hold of your dreams. 

You woke with a start, breathing heavily. It took a moment for your vision to focus and your breathing to even out, repeating the mantra to yourself until you’d calmed–  _ it’s just a dream, you’re okay. _

Pulling back the blankets, you slipped out of bed. The air was chilly so you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, venturing out into the hallway. Conversation carried from Lydia’s room, and you heard your name among it all. You stopped, pulling the blanket tight around you as you listened. 

“She told ya about ‘er sister?” 

“Beth.” Lydia said. “She told me about losing her.” 

“Did she say Beth’d tried t’kill herself?” 

Lydia’s voice was quiet. “No.” 

“Thought it’d be better if she was dead. If she didn’ have t’face th’world th’way it is now. Broke a mirror an’ slit ‘er wrists. Scared th’shit outta Y/N. But it scared Beth more. Second after she did it, she came out lookin’ for help an’ she saw th’look on Y/N’s face, she realize she didn’ wanna die.” Daryl’s voice got rougher, “Didn’ wanna leave ‘er family like that.” 

“This is different.” Lydia said. “I’m not scared of the world. The world should be scared of me. It’ll be better if I’m dead. Easier. For everyone.” 

“Nah,” Daryl argued. “Not for Y/N. Not for me. There’re people who care about ya, Lydia. Y’ain’t alone.” 

“Why?” She whispered. “Why do you two care? You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it.”

“Ya do.” Daryl said. “Yer a good kid who ended up with the wrong people. Ya do deserve it. Ya deserve a good life with good people.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“‘Cause I was you,” Daryl said, his voice quiet. “An’ I know what ‘s like t’come back from’t. T’find good people who make ya want t’be who ya really are.” 

“How–how do you do it?” She asked, voice breaking, “How do you make it okay?”

“Dunno...guess ya just have t’try.” Daryl said. “Think ya can do that?” 

It was quiet for a moment, before you heard Lydia’s voice, answering softly. “Yeah. I can try.”

Standing in the dark hallway, you smiled softly, a spark of hope igniting in your chest. 


	10. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on in Alexandria, and as the final months of your pregnancy pass by, new life begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Dixon baby Dixon baby Dixon baby Dixon! I’ll be completely honest, the only reason this sequel series even happened was because I thought of baby Dixon’s name and I knew I had to write it.

**January**

The cell door creaked as you opened it, the sound making Negan look away from the book he held in front of his face as he lounged on his cot. A surprised smile spread across his face, the book shutting with a snap. 

“Why didn’t anybody tell me it was my fucking birthday? It’s gotta be, or I wouldn’t be  _ gifted _ with your goddamn presence, sweetheart.”

“Siddiq’s busy.” You said. 

Siddiq had actually been sitting in the infirmary with his head in his hands and a glazed look in his eyes when you’d called his name. He’d insisted he was fine, but you’d sent him home for a few hours of rest anyway– between you and Rosita he’d learned not to argue with a pregnant woman. 

“Well thank fuck for that.” Negan grinned. 

“Sit up and shut up.” Daryl’s rasping growl sounded behind you. 

He leaned one forearm up against the edge of the doorway, glaring at Negan. You didn’t really need the extra muscle, but Daryl had insisted on being in the room while you checked up on Negan’s injury after the blizzard. 

“Your nurse has a fucking terrible bedside manner, you know that?” Negan quipped, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up. 

“Jus’ ‘cause Gabriel thinks ya don’ need cuffs or guards don’ mean I trust ya.” 

“Jesus, Daryl, who do you think I am? I’ve done plenty of messed up shit in my life but I sure as fucking hell wouldn’t hurt your beautiful pregnant wife.” Negan cut his gaze to you, smirking. “I’d rather do the opposite, if I’m being fully fucking honest.” 

You could practically feel the wall of anger radiating from Daryl, but before he could do anything rash, you held up a hand. 

“Enough. Let’s just get this over with, okay?” You said sharply. “Extend your leg.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Negan said, biting his lip. 

“Have you been having any difficulty moving, putting weight on it, or any severe pain?” 

“No,” Negan said, before looking over your shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

You grasped his leg, pretending not to notice the cocky look he shot in Daryl’s direction, moving him to bend and extend it and tilt side to side, checking for any resistance on the range of motion. 

He’d been injured during the storm, running after Judith and Dog. If he hadn’t, they would have died. 

That knowledge sat uneasily with you, your gratitude conflicting with your anger and grief. You weren’t sure how you felt about the idea that Negan could have changed. 

“Alright.” You said, standing up again. “It looks good. Don’t do anything too strenuous to it for the next week or so, and keep up the stretches Siddiq showed you.” 

“Any chance you could give me a refresher? Maybe with some live demonstrations?” 

“No.” 

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged, watching as you left the cell, and locking the door behind you. 

Daryl’s hand immediately found your lower back, guiding you towards the door. But you stopped, putting your hand on his arm. 

“Hang on,” You said softly. 

Daryl looked at you, confused. You chewed on your lip, questioning whether you were about to do what you were about to do. Then you turned around, facing Negan through the bars. 

“Look, I’m only going to say this once, so don’t even think about interrupting me.” You took a breath. “Thank you.” 

Negan’s eyebrows shot up, a disbelieving smile on his face. 

“You saved Judith’s life, and for that I’m grateful.” You said, setting your jaw. “I still hate you for the rest of it, and my promise still stands.” 

“Oh, I’d be disappointed if it didn’t sweetheart.” 

You turned back to Daryl, who was studying you carefully. “Let’s go.” 

Daryl was quiet for a while, waiting until you’d returned to the house before voicing his thoughts. 

“What’d ya mean, about yer promise?” 

“Remember after everything ended with him, the day you took Dwight out and sent him away?” 

“Ya went t’see ‘im.” Daryl said, remembering. “Y’decided not t’kill ‘im.”

“I told him that if he ever stepped out of line I’d make him wish I had.” 

Daryl let out a rasping chuckle, a small smile twitching at his lips as he shook his head. 

“What?” You tilted your head, curious. 

“Nothin’,” Daryl stepped closer, fingers slipping under the hem of your sweater and brushing the slight swell of your stomach. “Jus’...’s kinda nice when ya get all tough an’ scary.” 

“Nice?” You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah,” Daryl murmured, leaning down to trail his lips down your neck. “I like’t.” 

Your eyelids fluttered shut, head tilting to give him better access to your skin as you made a mental note to be a badass in front of him more often. 

**February**

“Have you been eating enough?” You asked your patient, Tanya, as you checked her pupils. 

She’d been between trips hauling bags of flour from the mill when she’d passed out. Apart from a few scrapes and bruises from the fall, she seemed alright. 

“I–no, probably not.” She sighed, “I forget about it until late most days.” 

“I’m guessing that’s what caused you to pass out.” You said, stepping back. “You’re not running a temperature and I don’t recall a history of suddenly losing consciousness with you.” 

Tanya laughed slightly. “No.”

“Okay then, try to pay closer attention to eating. Maybe try and schedule or plan your meals or find someone to eat with you and make sure you’re not neglecting yourself.” You said with a smile. 

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your smoking hot body, though,” You shut your eyes, irritation flaring immediately at the sound of the voice behind you. “She’s eating for two now, so take that advice with a grain of salt.” 

You shook your head, speaking quietly to Tanya. “Don’t listen to him. You’re good to go.” 

“Thanks,” She smiled thinly, casting an uncomfortable glance over your shoulder before heading out. 

You turned around with an unamused expression, arms crossed over your chest. 

“I don’t remember asking for a consultation, Dante.” 

“Was just trying to make a joke,” The newest addition to the infirmary staff held up his hands in apology, although you saw little remorse in his expression. “Sorry if I offended you,  _ mamacita _ .” 

You rolled your eyes. “Just leave my patients to me unless I ask for help, alright?” 

“Roger that.” He gave you a lazy salute.

There was something off-putting about Dante. He had embraced the community when he’d arrived with his group, he was as good a doctor as any (if a bit careless on occasion), and he’d given you no reason to distrust him. But there was just  _ something _ …

“Your kid’s here, by the way.” He added, looking pointedly at your stomach. “Your not-your-kid kid, obviously.” 

“Her name is Lydia.” 

“Right, Lydia.” He nodded slowly, never bothering to remember her name no matter how many times you repeated it. “Anyway she’s outside.” 

“Okay, it’s not too busy. I’m taking lunch, I’ll be back in half an hour.” You said, pulling on your coat. “Come get me if it gets crowded.” 

“Take an hour, mama,” He waved his hand, plopping down at the desk and propping his feet up lazily. “Give that little sucker the nutrients it needs. The baby, I mean, not the kid. Well, maybe both.” 

You didn’t bother with a response, shaking your head as you shut the infirmary door behind you. Lydia stood on the street outside, shifting from foot to foot, shoulders hunched against the cold. 

“Hey you,” You greeted, walking over to her. 

“Hi.” She managed a small smile. 

Lydia was getting better. You could see it in her face, hear it in the way she spoke to you, feel it in the way she was more open and comfortable with physical contact. 

But she was still lonely. She didn’t have any friends and handfuls of the community still eyed her with distrust and even contempt. They never said anything around you, they knew better than to tempt your anger, but you knew Lydia felt like an outsider. You and Daryl were there for her, but not always physically. You still worked and Daryl (being Daryl) was always working on something or another, often having to leave the community. 

On that particular day, he was heading to Oceanside with Carol. Rachel had radioed to Alexandria and Hilltop, asking for an extra pair of hands on the fishing trawler. Carol volunteered. You hoped the time away in the freedom of the sea might help her keep hold of herself. Lately it seemed like she was slipping away again. She didn’t really need Daryl to go with her, but he was her best friend and between her trip and the few months remaining until your baby was born, they wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. 

But Daryl’s absence made you even more grateful for your daily lunch with Lydia. 

“Shall we?”

“Yeah,” She nodded absently. 

You tucked your arm against hers, sticking close for warmth as much as familiarity as you walked back home. 

You took off your coat, taking Lydia’s as well and hanging them up. Not that there had been before, but now there was no doubt that you were pregnant. Your sweater did little to hide the swell of your belly. 

Lydia always eyed your baby bump with suspicion. She didn’t seem scared or confused about your pregnancy, but rather like she couldn’t decide if the baby was a good thing or a bad thing. 

She seemed quieter today. More lost in her thoughts, brow furrowed like something was bothering her. As the two of you set to work in the kitchen, you decided to do a little digging. 

“How was training this morning?” You asked, flipping a grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. 

“Good.” Lydia nodded, setting plates down on the table. “I beat Laurel in practice.” 

“Good for you,” You smiled, “I don’t think I could do that.” 

“You’d just be nice to her until she gave up.” 

You laughed. “That’s exactly how I got all the Saviors to surrender, don’t you know.”

When you turned around to look at her, she was smiling. 

“And how was your lesson?” You asked. 

The smile disappeared.  _ Bingo.  _ Lydia sat down as you carried over the pan and lifted a sandwich onto her plate, staring down at her hands. 

“It was fine.” She mumbled. 

“Doesn’t sound like it.” You said, putting the other sandwich onto your plate and sitting down. “What happened?” 

“Nothing happened. I just…” Lydia grimaced around a big bite of grilled cheese. “I don’t know why I have to do it. I’ve gotten along just fine so far without knowing how to read.” 

“But Lauren said you were doing really well.” 

Lydia scoffed. “RJ is better at it than I am, and he’s five.” 

“So? That doesn’t mean you’re not making progress. You started a month ago. He’s been reading stories with me since he was–” You stopped suddenly, thoughts swirling in your brain. 

“What?” 

“I have an idea.” You said, standing up and heading for the stairs. “I’ll be right back.” 

Lydia eyed you suspiciously as you returned, watching you pull your chair around to sit next to her as you set the book on the table. She peered at the cover, mouth working silently around the sounds.

“ _ Little Women _ ?” 

“Beth and I read it to Judith when she was a baby. Now you and I are going to read it together.” 

“It looks hard,” Lydia said, flipping through the pages. “And long.” 

“I think it’ll be easier than you think.” You said, opening it up. “Let’s start this way: I’ll read out loud, but you follow along. And then here and there we’ll go back and you can practice. We’ll just do a little bit every day at lunch. What do you say?” 

Lydia was quiet for a moment, staring down at the worn copy. Finally, she met your gaze. 

“Okay, but I don’t think this will help.” 

“Never know until you try.” You said, opening up to the first chapter and starting to read. 

**March**

You sat on the sofa, resting diagonally across it with your back against the armrest and your legs hanging off the edge. It was getting more and more difficult to feel comfortable in any position. And when your breasts were tender and swollen or the small of your back was practically crying out at you, there was no amount of re-positioning could help anyway. 

But for just a moment, you were comfortable. Dog lay on the ground beside the sofa, snoring softly. With the golden light of sunset streaming through the windows and the hurry and scurry of another day beginning to leave your mind, you were considering a nap yourself. 

“Long day?” 

Your eyelids fluttered open, warmth filling your chest at the sight of your husband in the doorway. Your response was lost to a pang of discomfort, the words swallowed by your sharp inhale. Baby was kicking again. You let out a slow exhale, your hand falling to your stomach.

Daryl reacted instantly, moving quickly to your side. “What is’t? Y’alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Your smile became more of a wince as the baby kicked again, “Baby’s just happy to see you.” 

Daryl’s expression immediately softened, wonderment replacing his concern. His hand hovered over your stomach as he looked at you for permission. You took his hand, guiding his palm to the right spot.

“Say something,” You told him softly, “They love hearing your voice.” 

“Really?” Daryl rasped, his gaze quickly dropping from yours as the baby kicked. 

Daryl knelt on the floor beside you, getting comfortable as he smoothed his palm against your belly, a small smile on his lips. 

“Didn’ know’t could tell th’difference.” He mused, his thumb rubbing gently across your skin. 

“Hunter’s hearing.” You said. “One of the many blessings of your genes, probably.”

“S’long ‘s they’re s’smart ‘s you, ‘m happy.” 

“Between the two of us there’s a good chance I’m carrying a genius, then.” You teased, running your fingers through Daryl’s hair. “Better be, if my feet have to hurt this much.” 

Daryl’s brow furrowed as he pulled away from your stomach. You were about to complain when he grasped your leg gently, beginning to rub your feet. 

“Oh my God,” you closed your eyes, tilting your head back against the armrest. “You are the most wonderful man who ever lived.” 

You heard him scoff, “Next time say somethin’. Don’ want ya t’be hurtin’.” 

Cracking an eye open, you smiled at him. “I love you, you know. So much.” 

He met your gaze for a moment before looking back down at his task, smirking slightly. “I know.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“Oh come on, Dixon, you’re literally kneeling at my feet.” You laughed. 

“I love ya too,” He relented. “More ‘an anythin’.” 

“Even your crossbow?” 

“Actually…” He tilted his head, feigning contemplation. 

You nudged his chest with your other foot, making him chuckle. 

“More ‘an my crossbow.” He promised.

“Wow.” You intoned, laying back and closing your eyes again. “That’s a lot.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl rasped. You could hear the smile in his voice. 

His hands were working wonders on your aches and pains. By the time he’d switched to your other foot for a while, you were teetering just on the edge of consciousness— comforted and content. 

Daryl’s voice brought you out of it, but at the sound of his words you decided to stay still, to keep your eyes shut and just listen. 

“Don’ wake yer mama up now jus’ ‘cause I wanna talk t’ya, alright?” 

Daryl waited a moment and it took everything you had not to smile and give yourself away. 

“Okay,” he said softly, taking a breath, “Alright, uh, guess I jus’ want’d t’tell ya t’take yer time. Do all th’growin’ ya gotta do an’ come when yer ready. Yer mama’s a whole different kinda beautiful with ya in there, but more an’ that. Don’ want ya t’rush, ‘cause we want ya t’be healthy an’ strong, alright?”

Daryl’s fingers brushed your stomach, his touch feather-light. 

“I’d do anythin’ t’protect ya, an’ I ain’t even met ya yet. Yer already loved, lil’one, by me an’ yer mama, and th’rest o’yer family. An’ yer gonna be loved yer whole life. So jus’...jus’ take yer time an’ we’ll be here when yer ready.” 

A lump had formed in your throat, your hyperactive hormones only amplifying the emotions Daryl’s speech had invoked. You opened your eyes, blinking as a few tears slid down your cheeks. 

As if he could sense your gaze, Daryl looked at you. Concern immediately lined his face, his hands reaching to wipe away your tears. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“That was beautiful.” You whispered, catching his hand and kissing his palm. 

“Y’heard me.” Daryl murmured, red rising to his cheeks. 

You nodded, feeling like your chest might burst with all the love you felt for him. You squeezed his hand three times, raising the other to card gently through his hair. 

“You’re going to be such a good dad.” You said, staring at him with adoration. 

“Y’think so?” Daryl wondered, brow furrowing, “Jus’ sometimes...I mean, I never had anythin’ t’–y’know, t’learn how t’–” 

You moved your hand to the collar of his shirt, pulling him down and quieting his worries with a soft kiss. 

“I  _ know _ you’re going to be an amazing father, Daryl. You’re already so good with Lydia and Judith and RJ. But it’s more than that,” You brushed his cheek, “You’re a good man. The best. And you’re going to raise an amazing kid.” 

“ _ We’re _ gonna raise an amazing kid.” He corrected, leaning down to kiss you again. 

“Yeah,” You pulled back, touching your forehead to his. “We are.” 

**April**

“It hurts,” RJ whined, wiggling around. 

While you and Rosita were taking a walk together around the neighborhood, you’d seen him take a little tumble from his bike. Not enough to get really hurt, but enough that his palms were stinging and his pride was deflated. 

“I have just the thing,” You said, motioning for him to come to you. “Show me where it hurts?” 

He raised his hands towards you. You bent as low as you could considering how large your belly had become in the last month. Even though she was at least a month ahead of you in her pregnancy, your stomach looked about the same as Rosita’s. 

You blew on his hand, letting the cool air travel across his palm before you gave the inflicted area a small kiss. Straightening up, you looked down at your nephew who now seemed at least slightly calmer. 

“How does that feel?” 

“Better,” RJ said, studying his palm for a moment before heading right back to the bike. “Thanks, Auntie Y/N.” 

“You’re welcome, kiddo. Just watch out for the curb, okay?” 

As RJ pedaled right off again, you and Rosita continued your walk. The weather was turning nice again, the chill of winter quickly giving way into spring. You were happy to get out and enjoy it before the sticky heat of summer returned. 

Rosita winced, pressing a hand to her stomach. 

“You okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” She nodded, “Braxton hicks.” 

“Ugh, not looking forward to those,” You said, shaking your head. 

“You know, it pisses me off sometimes.” Rosita said suddenly. 

You glanced at Rosita, “What does?” 

“How good you are at that.” Rosita said, gesturing in the direction RJ had gone. “You do it so easily. It’s like you were meant to be a mom.” 

You shook your head. “That was more doctor than mother.” 

“Maybe, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been good with Judith. More than the rest of us. I mean, you didn’t see Michonne asking me to move in with her after– before RJ.” 

“It’s apples and oranges, Rosita.” You argued. “She didn’t ask you because you’re one of the best fighters and scavengers and field medics and a whole list of other badass skills I can’t even think of. Just because you don’t hang out with kids as much as me doesn’t mean you aren’t as fit to be a parent. You are.” 

“What if I’m not? What if I’m too cold or too busy or I can’t figure out how to– I don’t know, how to love it right?” 

“You will.” You said sincerely. “You just will, I promise.”

Rosita looked like she still didn’t believe you, but she didn’t argue further. 

“I think Eugene is more excited than I am for this baby.” 

“Really?” You asked, laughing. 

“Yeah,” Rosita cracked a smile. “He’s preparing all these charts and graphs and shit. I think he’s going to turn my kid into one of his experiments. One of them is entirely dedicated to how and when the baby–” 

Rosita stopped short, the rest of the sentence lost in a sharp gasp. You grabbed her arm, concern flaring in your chest. 

“What? What happened?” 

“I think I just...I–” She looked down, and you followed her gaze. 

Dark spread across her jeans and down the pant leg. You gripped her arm harder, making her look at you. 

“Your water just broke.” You said, keeping your voice level. “We’re going to walk to the infirmary now, okay?” 

She nodded, her eyes wide. You walked steadily together, her hand holding tight to your arm the whole way. 

Just a few hours later, Socorro Espinosa was delivered by her father and placed in the arms of her mother. Rosita gazed at her daughter for a long while before looking up at Gabriel, who stood beside the bed. When you saw the tired but radiant smile on her face, you knew you’d been right. 

**May**

“Lil’ Asskicker is obviously taken, so what are our other options? I like Teeny Weeny Walker Killer.” 

“Yer ridiculous, ya know that?” 

You laughed, looking up at Daryl from where your head lay in his lap. His eyes matched the clear blue sky above. Maybe he had been right about the whole “sky’s the same in Virginia as it is in Georgia” thing, but you weren’t about to tell him that. No, you were much happier to just gaze at him in the pleasant spring air. 

“I know, but you’re the one who married me so…” You teased. “Who’s  _ really _ the ridiculous one?” 

“Still you.” Daryl said, finding your hand and smoothing his fingers over your ring. “But ‘m th’lucky one.” 

You smiled, heart warmed by the sweet compliment. You were about to pull him down for a kiss when a sharp pain struck your stomach. You closed your eyes, letting out a slow, but slightly shaky exhale until it subsided. 

“What was that? ‘S’t th’baby?” Daryl asked, his hands skimming rapidly from your stomach to your face and back again. 

“It’s okay,” You said, taking his hand. “Just another Braxton Hicks contraction. It’s passed now.” 

You’d been having them for a couple of weeks off and on, as was expected so close to your due date. Still, you could see the worry written all over Daryl’s face. 

“Maybe we should go back.” He suggested, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“No,” You struggled to sit up, Daryl’s hands immediately coming to support your shoulders and back as he helped you up. “It’s really fine. We can stay a little longer.” 

You pressed a hand to his chest, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

After Coco was born a month earlier, he’d gone into super protector mode, refusing to leave you to go anywhere unaccompanied or to do anything that was potentially stressful or taxing. Suffice to say, you’d been going out of your mind with boredom. A lot of back and forth and the very same puppy eyes you were using now had convinced Daryl to leave Alexandria with you for a few hours.

He’d agreed, but under the conditions that you take a wagon instead of traveling on foot and not go further out than a mile. Anything beyond the walls would have been fine by you, but the meadow he’d found for a little picnic was positively delightful. 

You weren’t ready to leave just yet. 

“Alright,” Daryl relented, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Jus’ for a lil’ while.” 

Smiling, you shifted and let yourself lean back against his chest. “Okay, but back to the name question. Now that Teeny Weeny Walker Killer has been vetoed, I’m all out of ideas.”

Daryl snorted softly, running his fingers up and down your arm. “Sure ya are.”

“Maybe I have a few.” You said, “But I want to hear yours.” 

“I dunno,” Daryl paused, thinking, “Avery?” 

“I like it.” You nodded, “Not too boring. Our kid’s going to be a Dixon, so no boring names allowed. Avery...what about River? River Dixon. No, nevermind. Don’t like it.” 

“Yer in a mood today, huh?” 

“I think being outside the walls is making me a little giddy.” You rambled, “That and the hormones, probably.” 

“Probably.” 

“You’re making fun of me.” 

“Am I?” 

You jabbed his chest with your shoulder, making him laugh. Daryl wrapped his arms around you, hands resting on top of your belly. You were trying to think of another name when a second contraction hit you, making you hiss and wince. You breathed through it, this one lasting longer than the one before. 

“We’re goin’ back.” Daryl said, playfulness gone from his tone. 

You opened your mouth to argue, and then thought better of it. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” 

Daryl stood first, bending down to help you to your feet. You walked – more like waddled – back towards the wagon while he folded up the blanket and lifted his crossbow from where it had been laying in the grass. 

You were still a few feet away from the wagon when the horses began to shuffle nervously. At the sound of all-too-familiar growls and snarls, your heart sank. Just a few feet away, a handful of walkers shuffled out of the woods. 

You began to back up, moving as fast as you could without tripping or letting them out of your sight, grabbing for the knife at your hip. You counted four of them in total, each with its gaze locked right on you. Your heart began to hammer in your chest as you weighed your options. 

You heard a familiar whistling rush, watching as a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the closest walker’s skull. 

“Stay back!” Daryl shouted, giving up on reloading and just running towards you instead. 

You kept backing up, but the walkers were moving pretty fast. One of Daryl’s knives flew through the air, felling a second walker. He leapt on the third, driving his other knife into its skull. 

But the fourth was already lunging. You met it with your knife, grabbing its decaying shoulder as you plunged your blade into its temple. You pulled the knife free, blood spraying all across your chest and neck as the walker dropped to the ground. 

Daryl was in front of you in an instant, hands scrabbling desperately over your body, checking for injury. 

“I’m okay,” You said, trying to keep your breathing even, “I’m okay, it didn’t bite me, I’m–” 

You felt a sudden gush of fluid between your legs, soaking down the inseam of your pants. For a mortifying second you thought you’d just peed yourself before the logical, medical side of your brain kicked in. 

“Oh, shit.” You breathed. 

“What?” Daryl looked practically frantic, grabbing your shoulders. 

You met his gaze, doing everything you could to keep your voice – and yourself – calm. “My water just broke. The baby’s coming. The baby’s coming now.” 

~

It became one of Judith’s favorite stories. How Auntie Y/N and Uncle Daryl had come back, rushing through the front gate to the infirmary. How you kept deathly calm and focusing on your breath while Daryl barely contained his stress. How he’d somehow managed to carry you inside. How by the time word had spread around Alexandria that you’d gone into labor, it was all already over. 

Judith had been outside with RJ and her mom waiting (not very patiently) for news, when the infirmary door opened and Daryl stepped out. He’d had an odd look on his face, one that Judith had certainly never seen before, like he was so happy he was sad. At least that was how she’d explained the tears in his eyes as he waved them inside. 

You were lying in one of the beds, and even though you were exhausted and spent and coming out of some of the worst pain in your entire life, Judith thought you were glowing. Because you were looking down at a small bundle of blankets nestled in your arms, held snug against your chest. 

Daryl touched your shoulder gently, drawing your attention to the assembled visitors. A huge smile had spread across your face as you nodded for Judith to come closer. 

“Hey Bug, come say hello to your cousin.” You said, and Judith finally caught sight of a tiny face and tiny hands peeking out of the blankets. 

“Meet Archer Greene Dixon.”


	11. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We look back at seven years ago, when tragedy struck Alexandria and everything changed...again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early! Hooray!

It was too quiet. 

All you heard was the crunch of your footsteps over the gravel, the change in Michonne’s breath as you started moving uphill, the sliding, shuffling sound of Daryl readjusting the strap of his crossbow.

No one was talking. 

Not just here, in this moment. No one was talking anymore. Michonne didn’t talk so much as act– fixing things and fighting walkers and going out to what remained of the bridge. 

The last time the two of you had talked,  _ really _ talked, was a month after it happened. She came into the infirmary late, after everyone else had gone for the day. With that guarded expression of hers you hadn’t seen since the prison, she’d told you she thought she was pregnant. You’d simply nodded in understanding before finding a test for her to take. You waited with her, holding her hand until it was ready. You looked at it together, seeing the two pink lines.

Michonne had let out a sound– somewhere between a gasp and a sob and an exhale, slumping forward and shaking as she started to cry. You’d put your arms around her, holding her close. You’d started to cry with her, silent tears of sympathy and grief. 

“I can’t–” Michonne had shook her head. “I can’t do it alone. I–” 

“You won’t.” You reached up and held her face, forcing her to look at you. “I won’t let you. Okay?” 

You’d moved into her house the next morning. Michonne was too tired to ask questions or argue with you.

Judith was a different story. 

“Is Uncle Daryl coming to stay too?” She asked, wandering into your room as you unpacked your things. 

He wasn’t talking either. He was barely even around anymore. You’d let it go at first, understanding that he was grieving. He’d lost his brother. You knew what that was like, how it hurt and how hard it was to recover. So you hadn’t tried to stop him from looking for Rick’s body. 

But he wouldn’t stop looking. He’d gone all the way to the ocean and back and he was still searching. He was home once every few days, crawling into bed with you for a few hours or staying just long enough to put on a clean shirt before going out again. 

Sure, you said hello. He said where he’d been, where he was going next. You told him you loved him. He kissed you goodbye. 

But you weren’t talking. He didn’t talk about the pain he carried, he didn’t ask you to help him carry it. You didn’t tell him you were hurting too, you didn’t tell him you felt like you were losing him because you were afraid it might make you lose him faster. 

You looked over at the archer as you walked, the familiar ache of longing and loss in your chest. You wanted to go to him and tell him you missed him more than anything. To ask him how to fix it. 

As if sensing your gaze, he turned his head and looked at you. His eyes, the color of the sky back home in Georgia, were particularly piercing. You felt a pull in your chest, and from the way his lips parted and the slight tense in his shoulders, you knew he felt it too. 

Michonne let out a low hiss, pressing a hand to her heavily pregnant stomach. You looked away from Daryl, turning back towards responsibility. 

“Hey,” You reached for her arm, “Do you need to take a break?” 

Michonne pulled her arm away from you, continuing forward. “No. We have to find them.” 

You didn’t like it, but she was right. That’s why you were here in the first place. You didn’t need to talk, you just needed to find Judith and the other children.

You and Daryl stood still for a moment behind her, making eye contact once more. He gripped the strap of his bow, his jaw working like he was trying to figure out something to say. After a moment he just shook his head, following Michonne without a word. 

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to keep it together before continuing on after them. 

It was too quiet. 

The three of you found Jocelyn and the children at an old school. You split up to cover the place. You’d barely finished clearing the gym when you heard Michonne shouting and a door slamming. You ran, meeting Daryl – who’d cleared the east side of the building – in the hallway. 

“Michonne?” You called out, knife raised as you and Daryl moved in sync around the next corner. 

You saw your friend standing a few yards away, facing off against a line of Jocelyn’s children. They each brandished a weapon, some with knives while others pointed bows and harpoons in your direction. 

“Where are my kids?” Michonne panted. 

“Drop ‘em.” The oldest boy ordered. 

“Just tell me that they’re safe–” 

The girl at the end of the line let her arrow fly, impaling you in the right thigh. You cried out as the weapon tore through your flesh. Hands dropping to your leg, you stumbled backwards and began to fall. Warm, familiar hands grabbed your shoulders as Daryl held you up. Your vision swam, pain clouding your mind as you tried to focus. 

“I said drop it.” The kid repeated, two of them moving around Michonne towards you. 

“Okay, okay–” You heard a crack and then a thump, turning to see Michonne crumpled against the ground. 

“Michonne…” You called. 

Everything happened at once– Daryl trying to move in between you and the advancing kids while still keeping you upright, you trying to get to Michonne, and in the confusion and haze you stepped on your newly injured leg. White hot pain shot through you and you lost your balance, crumpling to your knees. 

“Hey!” Daryl’s voice sounded far away as you looked down at your blood dripping onto the ground. “Don’ touch her–don’–” 

Something hit your head. Hard. And everything went black. 

When you woke up, the first thing you felt was heat– intense and blanketing the right side of your body. You could hear the crackling of a fire. As you blinked your eyes open, the pain came trickling back until it was a steady pulse of sharp, hot discomfort in your leg. You wanted to reach for it, to examine the wound when you realized your arms were tied to a pipe above your head, your toes barely touching the ground. A ripped rag was tied around your face, gagging you. 

You twisted as best you could, finding a handful of the kids to your right, clustered around a burning trash can. Michonne was tied up to your left, Daryl in the same position just a few feet past her. They looked at you, fear mirrored in their eyes. Jocelyn sat on the other end of the room, watching. 

“She’s awake.” You heard one of the kids say to another. 

The boy nodded, lifting a long metal rod from the fire. The X on the end glowed red with heat as he moved down the line past you and Michonne to Daryl. 

“Go on, Linus,” Jocelyn said as he lifted the back of Daryl’s shirt. “Be strong.” 

You struggled against your ties, swinging and twisting useless against the bonds as fear tightened in your chest. Linus pressed the iron to Daryl’s skin, and your heart shattered at the sound of his muffled screaming. 

“Stop it!” You yelled, the sound dampened and distorted by your gag. “Stop!” 

Linus pulled back, letting Daryl slump forward, panting. 

Jocelyn stood, looking down at the child. “Well done, Linus.” 

“The strong survive.” He said, moving back to the fire and putting the iron back. 

Jocelyn nodded to the older the boy, the one who’d ordered you to drop your weapons. He lifted the rod out of the fire once more, stepping behind you. You tensed, trying to move away as you felt his hands on the back of your shirt. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl struggling against his restraints. He was trying to say something too, the strangled words something like “don’t” or “no.” You didn’t have a chance to decipher it though, as the brand touched your skin. 

Whatever pain you felt in your leg was immediately forgotten, replaced by the agony of the brand searing into your skin. You screamed, tears falling down your cheeks as the acrid smell of burning flesh invaded your nostrils. It must have been just a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity– the pain endless. 

And then it was done. Your head lolled forward, vision swimming again. Your body overloaded from the pain, you slipped once more into unconsciousness. 

You awoke again to the sensation of falling, breathing out a gasp as you dropped towards the floor. 

“I got ya,” A familiar voice rasped against your ear, arms wrapping around your waist. “‘S alright. I got ya.” 

You gripped his arm, shaking slightly as Daryl lowered you to sit on the ground. Michonne stood over his shoulder, rubbing her newly freed wrists. She glanced towards the door, worry lining her face. 

“You should go. I’ll be fine.” You winced, looking up from the arrow still embedded in your thigh. “Both of you, go get the kids. I’ll just slow you down.” 

Daryl shook his head, his expression stony. 

“Daryl, stay and help her. I’ll find them.” Michonne said, leaving no room for argument before heading out the door. 

You pushed Daryl’s shoulder, trying to keep your voice level despite the pain. “Go with her. She’s pregnant, she needs your help. Judith and the others—”

“I ain’t leavin’ ya.”

You were too tired, too hurt, too distressed to stop the words before they left your mouth in a sarcastic mutter. “That’s new.” 

Daryl froze, hands hovering over your leg as he blinked at you in shock. “Th’hell is that ‘sposed t’mean?” 

“Nothing. Forget it.” You squeezed your eyes shut, remorse mixing in with the fear and pain already coursing through you. “Just...go with Michonne. She needs you. I already told you I’ll be fine.” 

“An’ I already said I ain’t leavin’ ya.” Daryl set his jaw, meeting your gaze with as much, if not more determination than your own. 

“Fine.” You agreed, taking a breath to brace yourself. “Hand me that cloth. I’m going to make a tourniquet, and then you’re going to pull the arrow out.” 

Daryl looked at you sharply, concern written all over his face. “Ya sure? We don’ have nothin’ t’sew it up with.” 

“I’ll wrap it.” You said, beginning to tie the tourniquet around your upper thigh, “Can you rip the bottom of my shirt? It’s cleaner than those rags they tied us with.” 

“Ya can have mine–” 

“Mine is still cleaner.” 

He clamped his mouth shut, knowing you were right. Daryl shifted closer, grabbing the hem of your shirt and tearing a relatively even strip around the bottom. The cloth dragged against your burn and you hissed a breath. 

“Sorry.” Daryl murmured, his brow furrowed in guilt. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You worked to keep your breath steady. “Okay. Pull the arrow.” 

Daryl nodded, leaning forward and kissed the side of your head quickly. 

Bracing your leg with one hand, Daryl wrapped the other around the shaft of the weapon. “Count’a three, alright?”

You nodded, reaching forward and holding onto his shoulder bracing you for support. 

“One, two–” He yanked straight up, pulling the arrow out of your leg. 

Crying out, you fisted your hand into the material of his shirt. Tears pricking the sides of your eyes. 

As Daryl tossed the bloodied arrow away, you forced yourself back to work. Hands shaking, you started to wrap your torn shirt around the wound. 

“Lemme,” Daryl murmured, gently nudging your hands away and taking the fabric. 

“Thank you,” You sighed, wiping your sweat-soaked brow with the back of your hand. 

Daryl worked in silence for a moment, and you watched him, somehow missing him even though he was right in front of you. He was tying the bandage just as tight as you would have, making sure it wasn’t bunched up or leaving gaps in the fabric. He was so...capable. He knew what to do, and he did it well. He knew how to take care of you. 

“That feel alright?” Daryl looked up at you, hand resting lightly against your leg. 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Can you help me stand?” 

“‘Course.” 

He lifted your arm around his shoulder, helping you to your feet. You tried putting your right foot down, but the pain flared again and you wobbled unsteadily. Daryl wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you securely against his side. 

“I got ya.” 

“Yeah,” You nodded, resting your hand against his chest for just a moment. “You do.”

You inhaled a deep breath, dropping your hand and facing the door. “Time to go.” 

~

It was quiet when you returned to Alexandria. 

None of the others said a word when they saw you– blood-stained and broken. The ones who’d lost them reunited with their children, sending you looks of gratitude and pity. 

No one had to say anything to know that things were about to change. It was in the air, it was in the way Michonne walked with you to the infirmary, it was in the way they shut the gates behind you. 

You could feel it in the way Daryl looked at you. He watched you, standing in the corner of the infirmary as Siddiq stitched you up, but Daryl wasn’t really seeing you. You could tell he was deep in his head, turning thoughts around and around as he picked at the skin on the side of his thumb. 

Anticipation and anxiety and loss and longing and exhaustion all settled heavy in your chest as you hobbled towards him on the crutches Siddiq gave you. Daryl resurfaced from his thoughts, falling into step with you. 

You thought about walking down the street with him after that long night, nearly three years earlier, having just found each other again after the herd. Back then, you were filled with hope– hope for the day to come, for the connection growing between the two of you, for the future. You hadn’t felt you needed to say anything because you knew you’d always have time, you’d always have him. 

Now you felt like you  _ couldn’t _ talk. The words got all tangled up in your hurt, ensnared with your insecurities and fears until it stuck in your throat. You wanted to tell him you were sorry and you missed him and you loved him and you were so scared, but it was all just sitting there. Stuck. 

Stuck here, silent and stupid, letting him leave you again. You knew he would. You knew he  _ had  _ to. But it hurt worse than the arrow or the brand or anything else in the world. 

He helped you slowly up the stairs to your room, the one where you spent more nights alone than not lately. You dropped down onto the edge of the bed, looking up at Daryl standing by the doorway.

Things were about to change. You could feel it. 

“They’re gonna keep the gates shut.” Daryl said. 

“Jocelyn was a mistake. We can’t–at least for a while...” You looked down at your hands, bracing for the heartbreak just around the corner. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you…” You met his eyes again, holding yourself together. “Are you going to stay?” 

Daryl held your gaze for a moment, expression drawn. Finally, he looked down, hair falling in front of his eyes. 

“No.” 

Your breath came out in a shaking exhale, tears building behind your eyes no matter how hard you willed them away. 

Daryl lifted his head, tone firm. “But I ain’t leavin’ ya.” 

“What?” 

“‘M not–I gotta be out there. Gotta look for him.” Daryl explained, taking a step closer. “But I ain’t leavin’ ya. Not–not in that way.” 

“But you are. I can’t...I can’t do this.” A tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly brushed it away. “I know you have to look for him. I’m not asking you to stop. But I can’t keep doing this...the way it is. You being gone for weeks and not talking...And I can’t–I–” 

Daryl was kneeling in front of you then, brushing away the other tears with calloused fingers. He leant his forehead against yours, breathing ragged with emotion. 

“I can come back more.” 

“Michonne won’t like that.” You shook your head. “Not now, not after…” 

“Then what?” Daryl pulled back enough to look at you, thumbs caressing your cheeks. 

You thought for a moment, fingers fiddling with the worn flannel of his shirt. 

“What about a base camp?” You sniffled, pulling yourself together a little bit more. “Set up somewhere close, a few miles maybe. Somewhere I know I’ll be able to find you.” 

“Don’ like ya comin’ out by yerself.” Daryl frowned. 

“I don’t like you doing it either.” You pointed out. “But we can both take care of ourselves.” 

Daryl smoothed your hair with his hand absently, playing with the end of a strand as he worked his mouth around his words. 

“Don’ like goin’ away.” He murmured. “Jus’– I gotta find ‘im.” 

“I know,” You whispered, cupping his cheek. “He’s your brother. I understand. But we can’t keep doing it the way we have been.” 

Daryl held your gaze, his eyes shining with emotion. He took your hands in his, squeezing them three times. 

“Imma make a camp like ya said. Somewhere ya can find me.” He said. “I’ll make it safe for ya t’be there. Make traps n’things for th’walkers.” 

You laughed slightly, shaking your head. “It should be safe for you too, you know.” 

“Right.” Daryl bit his lip, nodding as though he hadn’t even considered that part of it. 

“You don’t have to tell me how you feel about– you don’t have to talk about  _ it  _ if you don’t want to. I know it’s hard.” You said. “But I need to know you’re not pushing me away. Unless you are. I just...I felt like I was losing you. And I can’t lose you, Daryl. I can’t.” 

“Ya ain’t losing me. I ain’t pushing ya away, either.” He insisted. “...‘m not tryin’ t’push ya away.” 

“Okay,” You squeezed his hands. “We’ll figure it out.” 

He searched your face as if looking for a hidden meaning behind your words. You leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek, trying to assuage his lingering worries.

“Will you stay tonight?” You asked, shifting towards the headboard. “Just tonight.”

“‘Course.” He rasped, kicking off his boots. 

He draped his vest over the chair before pulling back the blanket on the other side of the bed and crawling in beside you. Daryl moved slowly, careful not to jostle your injury as he moved closer, wrapping strong arms around your waist. You sighed, closing your eyes and settling into his embrace. 

Daryl remained stiff, his breathing never evening out in the way that used to lull you into dreams. 

“What are you thinking about?” You whispered, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

Daryl sighed, pulling away and sitting up. Worry settling in your stomach again, you sat up too, watching him carefully. 

“Daryl? What’s wrong?” 

“I jus’– I don’ want ya t’think ‘m not in this.” He cleared his throat, reaching into his pocket. “I, uh–I got somethin’ a long time ago. Shoulda done it before...before everythin’ got all mixed up. Woulda–it might’ve kept ya from thinkin’ I was leavin’ ya– that I didn’ want ya or somethin’–” 

“Daryl, what are you talking about?” 

He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and staring straight at you, sincerity and determination in his eyes. “I ain’t good at this kinda thing. But, uh, yer all that I want. All I ever wanted, even when I didn’ know it. ‘Cause yer strong and yer smart and deserve way better than some redneck like me. But ya chose me. An’ ya love me. An’–I love ya, so–” 

You were so stunned by his sudden declaration, you barely noticed Daryl holding a ring out in front of you. You blinked, your brain slowly catching up with reality as he continued to stumble along. 

“I know it don’ mean much anymore but if you wanna–” 

“Yes.” You blurted out. “Yes, I do.” 

“Ya do?” Daryl’s eyes widened like he’d been expecting to have to convince you. 

“I’m already yours, Daryl. I always will be.” You said.

He fit the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him. He leaned forward, pressing closer to you as his hand slid under your hair to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss. When you pulled away for air, you let your forehead rest against his. 

“Are we gonna be okay?” You asked softly, intertwining your fingers with his free hand. 

Daryl looked down at your hands, rubbing gently at the new gold band around your finger before meeting your gaze again. 

“We gotta be.” He said. “We will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! See you in a week for the next chapter! <3


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